Leverage: Lost and Found
by Gilbert H. Karr
Summary: This is an original Leverage adventure. A certain member of the team misses an emergency client meeting. Can the team find their missing teammate before something bad happens, and handle an emergency job while short one teammate? I don't own Leverage or any of the characters within, except those of my own invention. Please read and review. I don't write slash. Thank you. Team fic.
1. Chapter 1

Nate and Sophie were seated quietly at a table in the bar, talking quietly and waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. It was rather late, but they had a client with an emergency, and Nate needed to fill everyone in before the job started tomorrow. Hardison was the next to arrive. He greeted the mastermind and the grifter with a smile, and then sat down across from them and opened his laptop in front of him, ready for whatever research Nate needed him to do. Eliot arrived next, wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless tank top, and he had a blue bandana tied hurriedly in his slightly disheveled hair.

"Did we pull you away from something important?" Nate asked, with a knowing gleam in his eye.

"As a matter of fact, you did," Eliot said, with a smirk.

"Anything you want to share with the class?"

"Would you like the best story, or the truth?"

"The truth, please."

"All right. I was teaching twelve troubled young men that they don't have to be someone else's punching bag." Eliot smirked again, fully aware that that wasn't what the mastermind was expecting to hear. "Any other questions?" Nate shook his head, grinning sheepishly at the hitter as he pulled a chair to the end of the booth and sat down, leaving the space beside Hardison free for Parker.

"Answer a question for me, then. Why are we here?"

"We have a job."

"Tonight? We have a job tonight?"

"Yes, well, no. Technically, the job starts tomorrow. But we need to start as early as possible tomorrow, which means we need to make some plans tonight." Nate looked at his watch and then at the empty seat next to Hardison. "Wasn't Parker supposed to be with you?" he asked Hardison.

"No, she cancelled. Said she had something she had to do. I kind of thought she just didn't want to see the movie I chose." While he was saying those words, he had his phone out, dialing her number. He listened, frowning, as it rang several times. _'Leave a message,' _Parker's voice yelled at him from her voicemail message. "Hey girl. Nate was just wondering where you were. We're all at the meeting at the bar. Call-" His voice faltered. _Did she not want to talk to him? What was going on?_ "Call me back," he finished.

(0o0)

The young, black-clad woman opened her eyes as the incessant, obnoxious beeping assaulted her senses. The sound seemed familiar to her, but she didn't recognize it. She looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, and she saw a black cell phone lying a few inches away. As she reached for it, she felt the gravel roll and slide under her arms, and realized how much her hands hurt. Turning her head to look at them, she discovered they were torn to ribbons from the gravel, and they were raw and bleeding. She couldn't exactly remember what happened, but it must have involved sliding on the gravel. She struggled to reach the phone without moving too much, but no matter how much she stretched, she just couldn't do it. As she pulled herself into a sitting position, sharp pain rocketed through her skull, she tasted blood, and then she leaned over and retched on the asphalt in front of her. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the pain. When it was gone, she bent at the waist and reached for the cell phone once again. The pain came back with a vengeance, and she let her arm drop to her side as she collapsed back against the wall a second time, unable to keep her eyes from slipping closed as she did so. Little sounds, almost sobs, started coming from her as she sat there, and when the beeping sound started again, she couldn't marshal the energy to reach for the phone, and so, she sat there, unable to stop the strangled sobs coming from her, listening to the beeping, and trying to ignore the pain wracking her body.

(0o0)

Hardison took the phone away from his ear, after the second call, and sat there staring at it. Eliot squeezed his shoulder gently.

"She still isn't answering?" Nate asked. Hardison shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"What about comms?"

Hardison pulled up her comm on his computer and was greeted with silence. She might have hers muted, though. Reaching up, he touched the button on the back of the comm in his ear and turned his on. "Parker? Are you there?" There was no answer. "Parker!" he said, louder this time. His heart sank as he heard a muffled, strangled sobbing sound coming from Parker's comm. He muted his own comm before speaking to the others.

"Guys, we might have a problem. I found Parker, but she isn't answering, and it sounds like she's hurt."

"Can you trace her using the phone's GPS?"

"Yes." Hardison got to work tracing the phone, and soon had an address, but he frowned when he saw where it was. "She's in the warehouse district, near the docks."

"Let's go." They all left the bar at a run, and loaded into Hardison's van. Eliot drove, knowing they needed to get there fast.

After they were on their way, Sophie spoke up, "I wonder what she was doing there. That's a bad area. Lots of crime."

"You can ask her when you see her," Nate said, grimly. "Hardison, have you triangulated her location?"

"Almost." He broke off abruptly, all of his attention on the computer screen. "There, that warehouse there. She's not inside. Looks like she's in the alley that runs between the two buildings. There!" he said, pointing. Eliot slammed on the brakes, rammed the van into park, and then ran toward the alley, the others following behind.

As he entered the alley, he clicked on the heavy aluminum flashlight he always carried, and bathed the walls with its light. Finally, he saw the young blonde, about halfway down the alley, with her head leaning back against the wall and her eyes closed. He stopped a few yards from her, trying to assess as many injuries as he could before he got close, so he would know what she needed. Without even realizing it, he had brought the first aid kit he kept under the front seat with him. It was the smaller of the two in Hardison's van, but it was all he would need, as they would be putting her in the van in just a few minutes.

Dropping to his knees beside her, he stabilized her neck in case there was an injury to it that he couldn't see, and then he helped her lie down on the ground. "Shh. It's okay, Parker. We're here, Darlin'. We'll get you fixed up."

The young woman forced her eyes open when she heard a gravelly, male voice so close to her own. He had one hand on her arm, and she began struggling to get free. He tightened his grip, and said, "Parker, relax. It's me, Eliot. I ain't gonna hurt ya." When she saw him, he was looking down, using the flashlight to find something in the kit that sat open on the ground.

She found her voice and said, "Who the Hell is Parker?"

Taken aback, Eliot shone his flashlight on her face. She was pretty messed up, with blood matting her long blonde hair, and bruises and cuts showing up all over her face, but when their eyes met, he saw that there was no recognition there. Looking more closely, he saw that indeed, this wasn't Parker. 

He looked from her to the cell phone and back again. Then, he reached up and removed the comm from her ear. _What was going on? She was dressed in Parker's clothes, and she had Parker's comm in her ear. Parker's cell phone lay nearby. _

"What's your name?" Eliot asked,gently.

The young woman frowned. "I have no idea."

"Who did this to you?"

"I don't know. The last few hours are a bit of a blur." He saw that she was starting to get agitated. She wouldn't be able to tell them anything if they couldn't calm her down.

"All right. Just relax. We're gonna get you out of here and find out where you belong, okay?"

"Thank you," she said, closing her eyes again.

Eliot heard a voice in his ear. Nate. "What do you need, Eliot?"

Squeezing the woman's arm gently, he said, "I'll be right back. I just need a few more supplies." She tried to nod, but could barely move her head. Eliot rose and walked a short distance away. He whispered into the comm, "Nate, I need something flat we can stabilize her on, so that she doesn't injure herself further. I need something to strap her down with, and I need space. She's terrified." He didn't take the time to tell Nate it wasn't Parker they had found. It had been his experience that news like that was best delivered in person. The team would know soon enough, and he wasn't about to let the only lead they had to Parker and her whereabouts slip away. Besides, they needed to get out of the open. There was no way to know if whoever did this was watching, planning something. There would be plenty of time for answers later, when they were safely back at Nate's apartment, and the girl was safe and warm, treated and comfortable.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Usual disclaimers apply-I don't own and I don't profit. Thanks to everyone who read and followed, favorited, or reviewed. They all make my day, and I'm really feeling the love. Thanks so much.**_

**Chapter 2**

Nate's voice came back into his ear a moment later. "The luggage rack on Lucille is a flat piece of metal, wide enough for a person to lie on. Will that work?" One part of Eliot's brain was dealing with the conversation he was having with Nate, while he was working to make the young woman before him as comfortable as possible. As he really looked at her again, he realized she had passed out from the pain, but she was mostly stable for the moment, and he sat back to finish the conversation with Nate.

"Depends on whether I can strap her down so she doesn't fall off."

"Hardison is tearing an old shirt into strips so you can tie her down with that. He also has a wool blanket you can use to cover her. Do you want me to bring it all in?"

Eliot hesitated, knowing he would need help if they were to get her out of there without hurting her further. "Meet me at the front of the alley. I need your help, but we're going to preserve as much evidence as possible. I'll lead you in and show you where to step. I don't want her any more panicked than she already is."

"Does Hardison need to find her a hospital?"

"No," Eliot said, emphatically, and Nate was a bit shocked at the forceful tone. Hearing the pause on Nate's end, Eliot forced himself to speak more calmly, and said, "I'll explain later. I can do most anything she needs, I believe." He was walking toward the entrance to the alley as he spoke. A moment later, he saw Nate standing in front of Lucille, holding the supplies Eliot had asked for.

With a jerk of his head, Eliot indicated that Nate should join him. Together, they loaded the unconscious woman onto the makeshift stretcher, covered her with the blanket, and carried her out to Hardison's van. Eliot climbed into the back with her, while Nate drove, and they sped off toward Nate's apartment. When they got there, Nate and Eliot situated the woman in the treatment room, and then Eliot turned and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Thanks for your help. It's late. Brief the rest of the team on tomorrow's job, while I treat her. You can fill me in later."

Nate nodded once and left the room. When he was gone, Eliot turned back to the woman on the cot in front of him, to find her staring at him wide-eyed. She visibly shrank as he turned toward her. Instead of sitting down, he moved past her to the cabinets that ran along one wall. He opened and closed doors, gathering equipment, and without even looking, he knew she was watching him. He set a bowl out in the sink, and started running water in it. Opening a drawer, he withdrew a clean, soft cloth and tossed it into the bowl. Speaking softly to her as he worked, in a tone he hoped was soothing, he said, "My name is Eliot. I'm a medic, Sweetheart. I ain't gonna hurt you, I just wanna get you cleaned up so you can help us figure out where you belong, and we can get you back there. Okay?"

She nodded. He had turned away for a moment, and wasn't expecting her to speak. "Gabriella. Friends call me Gabby."

"Nice to meet you, Gabriella."

"I reckon you're about as close as I have to a friend right now. You might as well call me Gabby."

"All right. Gabby it is, then." He smiled, pleased that she was starting to calm down, and she smiled back.

When the bowl was about half full, he turned off the water, and carried the bowl over to the table that sat next to her cot. He seated himself in the chair next to her, and proceeded to use the cloth to wash the dried and somewhat sticky blood off of her face. Gently, he dabbed at the bruises, and then rubbed a salve on them. She was going to have one Hell of a shiner tomorrow. Maybe two.

As he worked, he casually asked, "What happened?"

Her voice shook as she said, "I'm not sure. I was supposed to be meeting someone—I think her name was Alice. My friend Peggy set up the meeting. She told me Alice could help me." _Alice!? Peggy? Hmmm. Could be._

Looking her in the eyes, Eliot said, "I need to be sure you haven't broken any ribs. Can you take your shirt off for me?" She shook her head, a look of terror in her eyes. Eliot chose not to press the issue for the moment. Instead, he shrugged and started gently manipulating various joints, making sure nothing was broken. She groaned when he took her left arm, and from the feel of it, it had been broken before.

"What did you need Alice's help with?"

"I was in an abusive relationship for almost thirteen years—from the year I graduated from high school until about three months ago. I suspected my ex was into some shady stuff outside of our relationship, but I couldn't prove it. Please understand, I wasn't involved, and I didn't approve, but he told me if I ever tried to leave he'd kill me. Then, three months ago, I discovered something that made me suspect he was mixed up in something having to do with children, and I knew then that no matter what happened to me, I couldn't stay silent any longer. I had to get those poor babies some help. So, I waited until he went to work. Then, I cleaned the house from top to bottom and packed my things. I had been saving money along and along for years—not much—he never allowed me to work and only gave me enough to pay the bills and buy groceries, so he'd notice if too much went missing, but I managed to put away $5-10 every couple of weeks. I hated that it was his money that would help me escape, but I had none of my own, so I didn't have a choice."

She paused for a moment, wincing when Eliot touched a particularly painful spot on her other arm, but she gritted her teeth and refused to cry out. Smiling his charm-the-birds-from-the-trees smile at her, he said, "I'm trying not to hurt you, but it's okay to tell me if I am."

She shook her head, and said, "Force of habit, I'm afraid. He used to get physical when he got angry—he'd punch and kick and burn and do...other things, and I learned early that it got so much worse very quickly if I cried out, so I just tried to stay silent. It became something of a battle of wills. If he couldn't make me cry out, I hadn't let him win. I don't know if that makes sense."

Eliot nodded, working hard to reign in his anger. It made more sense than she realized. It was exactly how a person came to respond to long term torture over time. All he said was, "You're safe now. You have nothing to fear from anyone here."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not safe here. I'm not safe anywhere. That's what this little demonstration was all about tonight. This was his way of telling me that I could come back or wait for him to track me down."

"You're not going back. We won't let that happen. And whether you believe it or not, you are safe here."

He started running his fingers down both sides of each of her legs—first the left and then the right—looking for injuries. None were readily apparent, and he didn't want to put her through the stress of taking her pants off in front of a stranger at the moment, at least, not without Sophie to help out, so he checked her for a concussion, not really expecting to find one, as her speech had been clear since their conversation started. When he was finished, he screwed the cap off of a large bottle and shook two blue pills into his hand. He picked up a glass of water with the other hand.

"Prescription strength ibuprofen. You aren't allergic, are you?" She shook her head.

"Then swallow these for me, and try to get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later." She swallowed the two pills, and then handed the water back to Eliot. He set it on the table next to her, and pulled a blanket up over her, patting her arm gently as he got her settled. When he was finished, he went out to talk to the rest of the team, closing the door softly behind him.

Nate looked up when Eliot joined them. "How's Parker?" the mastermind asked. _It was then that Eliot remembered he hadn't actually told them the whole story. _

"That's not Parker." They all stared at him like he'd gone mad.

Then, in a carefully controlled voice, Nate asked, "If that's not Parker, why is she here?"

"Think about that for a moment, Nate. Parker is involved in this, somehow. Her cell phone and her earbud were at the scene. That young woman—Gabby-was wearing her clothes. If we got the police involved, how do you think that would actually end?" _Well, he had a point._

"Don't you think it's dangerous to bring a complete stranger here?"

"Not as dangerous as it would be to leave her there, and I wasn't about to do that. Besides, she's the only solid lead we have to Parker's whereabouts at the moment. The stress of the ordeal she went through still has her a bit confused at the moment, but I think she'll remember more as she rests and begins to heal. I want her where we can question her, and keep her safe at the same time. Parker isn't our only responsibility here."

Nate wasn't sure he agreed, but would defer to Eliot on this one. He knew the man did nothing without a good reason, and he trusted his hitter's judgement.

"All right. So, what do we do now?"

"I want to allow her to rest for a few minutes before we start asking her questions again. Sophie, when that time comes, I'll need your help." The grifter nodded. Eliot looked at Nate. "We'll need to report this, and we'll need to do it in such a way as to keep Parker out of it, if we can. Can Bonanno be trusted for something like this?"

Nate considered for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. "I think so."

"All right. Hardison, I need you to go back over Parker's calendar, all her emails. See if you can find any information on who she was meeting tonight and for what purpose. Look for anybody from her past who might have had a reason to take her."

"I'm on it," the hacker said, typing furiously.

"If you're going to fill me in on the mission, do it now. We won't have time later, probably."

"It can wait. This is a job we can't do without a thief."

"Then we'd better find her. And soon."

"Agreed."

As they were each settling into their tasks, the team's private line rang. It had to be Parker. Few people outside of the team had this number, and everyone outside of the team who had it knew it was a one-shot deal.

Hardison clicked something on his screen with his mouse, and then pointed at the phone. Sophie picked it up.

"Hello."

"So-so-sophie?" asked a feminine voice with a bit of a squeak.

"Parker, is that you?" Sophie asked. "Parker?!"

"Keep her safe, Sophie. Tell them. Keep Gabby safe." Sophie heard a brief struggle on the other end of the phone line, and then it changed hands.

"We have your thief. If you want her, await our call to discuss terms. No police or we'll kill her." The line abruptly went dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sophie was visibly upset when she hung up the phone. Nate put his arms around her and just stood, holding her. Eliot looked at her.

"What did she say?"

"She told me to tell you all to keep Gabby safe." Sophie said, in a whisper.

"Why didn't she tell us she was meeting this woman?" Nate asked.

Eliot didn't answer. Instead, he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket, then used it to withdraw Parker's cell phone from his shirt pocket, open it, and scroll through the list of contacts. Finding the one he was looking for, he jotted the number down on a piece of paper, tore it off, and handed it to Hardison.

The hacker looked up. "What's this?"

"We'll need to talk to Parker's friend, Peggy, before this is over. According to the young woman in the treatment room, that's who set up this meeting. What I gave you is the contact information Parker had in her phone under Peggy's name. I want to know everything there is to know about her before we meet her."

"I'm on it."

"After you find out what you can from the emails, texts, and phone calls. We need that information as soon as possible." Hardison stared at Eliot for a moment, but he realized the hitter was correct. Knowing why Parker was there might tell them where to find her, or how to get her back. Eliot sat there staring straight ahead, lost in thought and waiting for what Hardison might discover.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Nate moved over and opened it, marveling at how Eliot could go from mostly relaxed to hyperalert in about a half second. Lieutenant John Patrick Bonanno of the Organized Crime Division of the Massachusetts State Police stood on the threshold. Nate stepped to one side and allowed the policeman to enter.

Nate offered his hand, and the two men shook. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant."

"You said it was urgent. What's going on?"

Nate hesitated, trying to decide how much to tell him. Finally, he said, "We came across a young woman who has left an abusive relationship. She was beaten pretty badly." He glanced at Eliot, who spoke up.

"I treated her. She's resting in the next room, if you'd like to speak to her."

Bonanno nodded. "Before I do, I have to ask you—How did you find out about this girl?"

The team exchanged glances. None of them were sure how much they wanted to tell Bonanno, but they knew they had to trust him if they wanted his help.

"Detective, the safety of a member of my team could depend on your discretion in this matter. We called you because you know us—know what we are trying to do here. Before we tell you anything, I need to know that that trust was not misplaced. Was it?" Nate asked.

Bonanno shook his head. He knew the risk they were taking calling him in. He also knew that the team before him was largely responsible for bringing down the men who had nearly cost him his life. He owed them this much. "No."

"All right. A member of my team missed a late meeting tonight. When we traced her whereabouts through the GPS signal on her cell phone, we didn't find her, we found the woman in question instead. According to Gabby, she was supposed to be meeting the woman missing from our team."

"Why were they meeting?"

"We're not sure. She was pretty shaken up, but she said she had left an abusive relationship with her husband three months ago. She indicated that she thinks he had something to do with the condition we found her in tonight. As for why they were meeting, she couldn't tell me. She couldn't even allow me to treat all of her injuries. We were hoping that allowing her to rest might help her to remember more than she's told us.

"And your teammate told you nothing?"

"No, she didn't. We think it was sort of a last minute meeting."

"I see. What do you want me to do?"

"We'll take care of things on our end...find our missing teammate, find out why they were meeting, etc., and we'll share any of that information that is pertinent to your investigation with you. We want you to do what you do—investigate the crime scene, interview the witnesses, arrest the perpetrators. We'll help from behind the scenes."

"You've done all of this before. Why do you need me?"

"It seems to me that someone was targeting Parker, and perhaps the whole team through her. If they were watching at the crime scene, they know who we are, but they likely knew that before. We don't want them knowing what we're planning, or trying to force our hand. I think it's better for us to stay invisible on this one, as long as we can. Put the element of surprise back in our favor."

"All right. May I talk to your victim?"

"Of course. I'm going to ask Sophie to come with us. She was terrified of me earlier. The presence of another female may help her feel safer, and lead her to open up a bit." Bonanno nodded, and rose, following Eliot toward the treatment room. The rest of the team followed more slowly.

Eliot opened the door, and abruptly stopped, dead in his tracks, growling low in his throat. Bonanno and the rest of the team nearly bumped into him from behind.

"What's wrong?" Sophie asked. Eliot didn't answer.

Nate stepped around them, and moved up beside the hitter. Bonnano joined the two of them on the other side. Nate suddenly understood why the hitter had stopped so suddenly.

"Damn," he said, in surprise, gazing across the room. The delicate lace curtains Sophie had hung to make the place nicer blew gently in the late night breeze coming in from the open window.

The treatment room was empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own Leverage, or the characters involved, except those of my own creation. I write for fun and not for profit. I don't write slash. **

**Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. **

**Chapter 4**

"She's gone?" Nate asked, his face colored with confusion.

"Looks that way," Eliot said, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that told him that something was wrong—horribly wrong. He dashed over to the window, inspecting it carefully to see what it could tell him about the disappearance. Eliot couldn't stomach the thought that she had left voluntarily, but the alternative meant that they were all potentially in great danger.

"So what now?"

"Not sure what you want me to say, Nate. Our only link to Parker is gone. The only thing we can do until they call is to keep doing what we've been doing." Eliot turned and looked at Bonanno. "It'll be light in a couple of hours. I'm guessing you'll want to look at the crime scene." Bonanno nodded. "I'll go with you. We need to keep this as quiet as possible, for Parker's safety. If they think the police are involved, they'll kill her. Nate and Sophie, you stay here in case they call."

"I'm going with you two," Hardison said. Eliot knew why he wanted to go, and he could sympathize, but they needed to keep it as quiet as possible. Laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder, he squeezed gently, and said, "Hardison, we don't know what we'll find when we get there. It's better if you stay here. Besides, we need you here to trace the call when her abductors call back." Hardison sighed, and nodded. As much as he didn't want to stay, what Eliot said made sense.

Eliot turned his attention back to Bonanno, loathe to say what he needed to say in front of the team, but knowing they wanted to hear it, and as much as he knew it would upset them, he had promised never to keep anything material from them simply to spare their feelings or to keep them from worrying. That was a promise they had extracted early on, and though he wondered if they sometimes regretted asking him to make it, he didn't make promises he wouldn't keep, and so, he had told them before, and he would tell them now.

"I couldn't tell if the window was opened from the inside or the outside. Before we leave, I'd like for you to look at it."

Bonanno nodded, moving over next to the window and examining it carefully. Nate spoke up, "So we don't know if she left voluntarily or not."

"Not unless Pat sees something I wasn't able to see." Bonanno looked up at that moment and shook his head.

(0o0)

Bonanno and Eliot arrived at the crime scene as soon as it was light enough to see. They were there for different reasons, and that was what Eliot was counting on. He was looking for anything else belonging to Parker, which might be there, and which might give them some clue to her whereabouts. Bonanno was looking at the scene the way a policeman would—looking for anything that might tell them who perpetrated this act against Parker and Gabby, as well as where they might have been taken and when, and anything that might incriminate their abductors. Nonchalantly, Eliot began scanning every inch of the alley. He was almost at the other end when he saw it—a small, black tracking device of the type Hardison had deposited in various places on their persons. Quick as lightning he picked it up, and turned it over. It was then that he saw what he was looking for—the one thing that made Hardison's tracking devices easy to identify—the end of a small green wire sticking out of a small hole on the bottom of the thumbnail sized disk. That didn't exactly prove that Parker had been there, but there was a better chance that her captors wouldn't have found the tracking device, so there was a good chance Parker had been here in person. That was something, anyway. Eliot tried to put the scene together in his mind, but it wasn't working. There simply wasn't enough information at the scene for him to adequately reproduce what happened.

Eliot had known that going back to the scene of the crime was a long shot, and he didn't know what he had been expecting to find, but he was surprised to find himself shockingly disappointed that they hadn't found anything leading them to Parker. He shoved the disappointment ruthlessly aside, to be dealt with later, and finished his search. A moment later, he jumped slightly when Bonanno said his name.

"Eliot!" Eliot looked up, getting the distinct impression from Bonanno's expression that the man had said his name several times. That was unacceptable, and Eliot made a mental note to give the matter more thought later. There was no time now. Their eyes met, and Bonanno spoke. "I think we've learned all we can from this place. Let's go."

Eliot slipped the tracking device into his pocket, and followed Bonanno back to his truck. They drove back to the team's headquarters in silence. Bonanno said his goodbyes, wanting to get the evidence he had collected to a friend , whom he trusted to keep it quiet, at the State Crime Lab. He promised to check in later. Eliot walked through the bar and made his way upstairs. When he walked in, he threw the tracking device to Hardison, and said, "Let's see what that can tell us."

The usually happy-go-lucky young man smiled grimly and started typing furiously on his keyboard. Nate and Sophie had their heads together, discussing various strategies and making plans. Eliot paced the room, and his usually semi-relaxed demeanor was gone, having been replaced with an ultra alertness, which filled the room with a sort of tension. The hitter was as tightly wound as a poisonous snake, and Nate would bet his strike would be just as deadly. He wasn't sure which of them would be the worst when they got their hands on these people. He just hoped they were able to do so before one of them snapped.

"Did they call?" Eliot finally asked. The other three together shook their heads. That was odd. What was taking them so long? Before they had a chance to think too much about it, though, they heard a crash that came from the other room, followed by a very loud silence.

Everyone stood frozen when they heard the crash, and Eliot looked around, accounting for each member of the team, and making sure they were all still where they were supposed to be. As the information sank in that they were all still there, he stayed frozen for just another few seconds, as he rapidly ran through options in his head. After a pregnant pause, he took off running for the treatment room, and as the others realized what was happening, they followed. Watching him wrench open the door, Nate couldn't help thinking it was a wonder the man didn't simply pull it off of it's hinges, or go through it while it was closed.

Eliot stopped just inside the door, his mouth open slightly in shock at the sight that greeted him. What looked like a heap of bloody rags lay on the floor, near the middle of the room. As he found himself wondering where they had come from and how they had gotten there, the rags started to moan.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own Leverage or any of the characters within, except for those of my own odd creation. I write for fun and not for profit. I don't write slash. Thank you for reading. Also, a special thanks to all who have taken the time to favorite, follow, or review. Reviews really make my day, so please keep them coming. Enjoy. **

**Chapter 5 **

Moments later, they heard a pounding at the front door of the apartment, and Sophie disappeared for a moment. Voices sounded in the other room, and then Sophie came back with Detective Bonnano in tow.

"I forgot my notebook," he said by way of greeting, answering Nate's unspoken question at the same time. His eyes found what everyone was staring at, and when he saw Eliot start to move, he followed.

Eliot dropped to his knees and started searching for the person under the rags. A moment later, he discovered a bruised and bloody pair of feet. He took a pair of scissors, and cut the bloodied rags away, until the woman laying before him was totally naked. She was so covered in blood and bruises that he couldn't tell who she was, however.

Bonnano rose, somewhat uncomfortably, and moved back to give Eliot a little space to work. Turning to the counter, he started bagging what he determined to be bloody clothing in large evidence bags to send back to the state crime lab.

Nate, Sophie, and Hardison stood ranged just inside the door, gaping at the sight before them, but afraid to move any further into the room. Rising, Eliot moved to the counter, next to Bonnano and started gathering the materials he needed to clean her up. As he did so, he whispered, "Pat, how are you at assisting with medical procedures?"

"I'm not a doctor, but I can hold my own."

"Okay." He called back over his shoulder to the rest of the team, "Nate, why don't you all go on back out to the living room, and start working the plan. Find Peggy and bring her back here. I'll come out when I'm finished."

"All right," Nate said, motioning to the team and leading them back out the door behind them. Experiencing a strange sense of deja vu, Eliot set the big bowl beside him on the floor and started cleaning her up. He saw it was Gabby, the young woman he had been treating before, and wanted to know why she had chosen to leave, but he bit back the questions with some effort, knowing she was in no shape to answer them at the moment. Seconds later, she opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but found Eliot's strong right arm blocking her attempt as he worked to wash all of the blood off, and determine where it was coming from. Her fingernails dug into his arm as the sensations of pain returned with the return of consciousness, and her breathing grew labored as the muscles in her trunk and abdomen strained with the effort of trying to sit up and breathe at the same time. Eliot didn't like the sound she was making. It meant a possibly punctured lung.

"Easy," he said gently, placing a strong hand on each of her shoulders, and guiding her back down. She didn't loosen her grip on his arm; if anything, she held on even more tightly. "We'll need to get you to a hospital. I don't have the equipment to treat a punctured lung, and it feels like you have a neck injury."

"No!" she croaked. "...'ind me."

"No, Darlin', they won't find you. We'll make sure of that."

"Listen," she hissed, and Eliot grew silent, startled at the forcefulness of her voice and knowing the effort it had cost her in her condition. "No...time." Every breath was an effort now, and Eliot winced in sympathy at the wheezy quality her voice was taking on. "...Alice...outside...must help." Her eyes had grown wide, and she was still struggling to sit up.

_Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over? Was she saying that Parker was outside? _Eliot turned his attention back to the young woman before him. "She's here? Alice is outside here? Gabby?"

But Gabby didn't answer. Her grip tightened on his arm for a moment, then loosened and she started to fall back onto the cot. He gently guided her back down. Her sightless eyes were open, and he watched, unable to speak and barely able to breathe, as the light in them faded and dimmed, until it was overtaken by the glassiness of death. A small trail of blood bubbled up and leaked out of the side of her mouth.

Eliot pulled himself to his feet, struggling to control the emotion that threatened to burst forth from within him. He picked up the bowl full of soggy cloth and red water, to carry it back over to the sink, and without really knowing how it happened, he suddenly found it bouncing off the opposite wall. _Damn it. She was my responsibility. Mine. And I failed her._

_(0o0)_

Bonnano's eyes grew wide as he watched the young man before him. He was fighting to reign in his temper, but it was coiled tight, like a snake ready to strike, dangerous. Pat knew better than most how that knife edge of anger could plunge itself, turning and twisting, into anyone present, even a friend, before it was once again controlled. The best thing he could do at the moment was try to find Parker. So, hehit the door at a run, sprinted through the apartment and past the shocked looks of the rest of the team, yelling "Stay here" behind him, as he took the stairs two at a time. He forced himself to slow down once he got outside, to move quickly and quietly out the back door and around to the alley between the bar and the building next door. Clicking on his flashlight, he searched every inch of the alley. There was no sign of Parker. He walked all the way around the building, and over every inch of the parking lot. Still no Parker. He didn't want to go back inside empty handed. _If I were Parker, where would I be?_ And suddenly, just like that, he knew. He walked back into the building, and climbed the stairs. He didn't go back into Nate's apartment at the moment, but walked on past it to the end of the hall, where a door led to the roof. Climbing the metal ladder, he opened the trapdoor at the top and hoisted himself up onto the roof. He quietly closed the door behind him.

The young woman wasn't readily visible in any of the places he shone his flashlight, but with Parker, that meant nothing. He had gotten to know them all over the past two and a half years, and he knew the tiny blonde was adept at hiding, and she could fit in places you'd never expect an adult woman to fit. If he did this right, it would take a while. Still, the same gut instinct that had kept him alive as a policeman all these years was now telling him that she was here, somewhere. He just had to find her.

Walking on the balls of his feet, so he didn't make much noise on the roof, he started on the side he was on, and looked around and behind fixtures. When he didn't find her, he spread out to the other parts of the roof. After he had checked everywhere he could think of, he stopped, trying to think where else she might be.

As he paced back and forth, he saw the HVAC access panel and wondered if she had somehow gotten down there. With no way of knowing whether or not she was injured, they had to assume that she was in the same condition as the woman inside, and Bonnano found himself at the same time worried about her and wondering how she could have gotten anywhere near the roof if she was injured.

Lifting the lid, he climbed down into the HVAC shaft. Smaller tunnels branched off in all directions. If Parker was in one of these, they might never find her. As he tried to figure out which way to go first, he heard a groan. Shining his flashlight around the small room, he saw that she wasn't anywhere in the main room, which meant she had to be in one of the tunnels. Shining his flashlight into each tunnel, he finally found her, curled up in a tiny ball, too far down for him to reach. He couldn't tell what her injuries were, or if she had any, from this distance.

"Parker? It's Pat Bonnano. Are you hurt?"

There was no answer, and no indication that she had heard.

"Can you crawl to me?" he asked. There was still no response. A cold trickle of fear dropped like an ice cube into his stomach. Not able to bear bringing the thoughts floating in the back of his mind to the front, he pushed them aside, and folded himself into the air duct. Crawling down to her, he saw that she was unconscious. He put the small flashlight in his mouth, and folding her arms together, he picked her up and used his legs to scuttle back down to the access point. He knew he'd need help getting her back upstairs, but he didn't want to leave her there while he climbed back out and went for help. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his cell phone and dialed a number. It rang twice and a gravelly voice answered.

"Yeah."

"Spencer, it's Bonnano. I found her, but I need help. She crawled into one of the air ducts, and she's unconscious. I can't get her out and crawl back up to the roof alone."

"Can you crawl through the tunnel until you find the treatment room?"

"Yes."

"I'll be waiting on the other side, and I'll help you get her out."

Slowly, painstakingly, Bonnano climbed carefully over Parker, and crab crawled backwards down through the tunnel, dragging Parker gingerly behind him, until he reached the treatment room. He crawled a bit past it, and maneuvered Parker into position. Eliot had already removed the cover on the return vent, and as Bonnano moved Parker next to it, strong hands reached through and hauled her out. He laid her out on one of the cots, and then moved back over to help Bonnano climb out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's the new chapter. Sorry, this was later than my usual updates, but I've reached a very busy time of year at work right now, and likely might not update as fast as usual. Thank you all for being so patient with me and for continuing to read and enjoy my stories. **

**The usual disclaimers apply. I don't own Leverage or any of the characters, except those of my own creation. I write for fun and not for profit. I don't write slash. Again, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy the new chapter. **

**Chapter 6**

"What do you want to do about the coroner's office, Eliot?"

Eliot had his back to the policeman, checking the small thief for injuries. "What?" he asked, forcing his mind to focus on words he'd only barely heard.

"I'm assuming you don't want them to come here. They'll be asking some questions."

"Do we have a choice?" Eliot had always figured things like that fell under the heading 'in for a penny, in for a pound' He ran through some options in his head.. He could call some military friends and have Gabby taken to a military morgue, and while he'd still have to explain everything, he'd be doing so to people who knew him and trusted him. He hesitated to do that, though. First off, he didn't really want his military friends involved in this, except as a last resort, and they were not the kind to just let things like this go. Second, he knew asking them for help with civilians was a one-shot deal, and he wanted to use it only when he had to do so. The business with Conrad had been different, as the man was a threat to National Security, so it wasn't really a civilian matter, either time.

"Well, she died here. There's not much way around that."

"She wasn't attacked here." He thought for another moment. Pat was a good man, and a decent cop. He owed them a favor, but Eliot couldn't ask him to put his career at risk to make sure they stayed clear. There were lines he wouldn't cross. "I'll take care of it, Pat. Thank you for your help." He wasn't looking at Bonanno. Instead, he was efficiently laying out all of the supplies he'd need to treat Parker.

Understanding that Eliot's focus was on something else right now, and reasoning that the less he knew about all of this, the better, he slipped out of the room, coming face to face with a startled team staring at him and wondering how he got back into the treatment room when they had just seen him running down the hallway.

(0o0)

Carefully, he cut her shirt down the center, and tore it open. Purple black bruises were starting to appear on her abdomen and chest, but Eliot saw less damage than he was expecting. Of course, the most dangerous damage would be what couldn't be seen. Gently, he began probing her ribs for signs that they might be broken, and looking for places where she might have intermal injuries. She groaned as he touched a particular area on her left side, but didn't wake up. He turned her half up on her side, so he could probe her back, and he found some kidney damage. He gently wrapped her midsection to stabilize her ribs, but he didn't want to put too much pressure on her damaged kidneys, so he was careful not to wrap it too tight.

When he finished with that, he started at her feet and cut each pant leg up the outside seam, until he had cut them completely off. He ran his fingers up the sides of her legs, probing for injuries, and when he felt the heat radiating from both knees, he knew she would be in a great deal of pain when she woke up. Unable to give her anything for the pain while she was unconscious, he resolved to do what he could for her.

Fishing around in one of the cabinets, he withdrew two ace bandages and wrapped them around Parker's knees. Then, he iced them, so the swelling would go down while she was sleeping. When he had finished treating the injuries which were readily apparent, he covered her with a blanket to ward off shock. Shaking her gently, he said, "Parker? Parker? Wake up, Darlin'." She didn't move or respond. Withdrawing his penlight from his pocket, he parted her eyelid with two fingers, and shone the light back and forth in her left eye, and then in her right. Her pupils were dilated, but responsive. Likely, she had a concussion, and he was concerned that he couldn't wake her up. Looking around for something that would make some noise, his eyes fell on the stainless steel bowl he had been using to treat Gabby, still lying on the floor where it had hit. It would do nicely. Now for something to use on it. Trotting over to the part of the room he used as a gym, he retrieved the metal yard stick he kept there, and squatted on the floor next to Parker's cot. Placing the bowl as close to her ear as he could get it, he struck it as hard as he could with the yardstick, and grinned broadly when she jumped. _She was in there! _

Seconds later, the door opened, and the rest of the team trooped inside, having heard the commotion and wanting to check to make sure everything was all right. Eliot felt their presence, but gave no outward sign that he knew they were there. His attention was focused completely on Parker.

"Parker, come on back, Sweetheart," he said loudly, shaking her a bit more roughly this time. Suddenly, her eyes popped open, and a look of confusion crossed her face as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She sat up fast, and then leaned forward and retched on the cot in front of her.

"Easy, Darlin'," Eliot said gently, reaching out to her. Before he could touch her, she made a small, high pitched squeaking sound in the back of her throat, scrambled off the side of the cot away from Eliot, and crawled to the corner, where she sat trembling and refusing to look anywhere but down at her hands.

Sophie started over to her, but Eliot put out a hand to stop her. "Don't," he growled. "She doesn't know us right now, and doesn't understand that we're trying to help her. Softening his voice when he saw that Sophie was upset, he said, "Go on out to the living room and wait for me. We'll discuss it out there." Seeing the way that Sophie was looking at him, he lowered his voice, and said, "She's confused and scared right now. If you try to approach her, there's no telling what she'll do—she could hurt you, or she could run away again and then we wouldn't be able to help her. I can't let that happen." He paused and looked her directly in the eyes. Brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, he said, "You won't wanna see this. Take the rest of the team out to the living room, and I'll be out in a few minutes. I'll answer all of your questions then."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'm counting on you to take care of them, Sophie, while I take care of her."

"Why me?"

"You're the only one who can. Go on now," he said kindly, giving her one of his trademark Spencer smiles. She smiled back, and then turned and shooed the rest of the team out of the room and back into the living room, closing the door behind them as she went.

Eliot watched them leave, then turned back to Parker and slowly approached her. He stopped when he saw that she was trying to back further into the corner, and was still shaking violently. "Parker, I know you're confused right now. You don't know where you are or how you got here, but I need you to trust me when I tell you that you are among friends. We won't hurt you. I just want to help you. Sweetheart, it's me, Eliot." She seemed to be calming down a little as he watched her. His voice was soothing, even if she didn't know him, and he hoped, on some level, that she recognized his voice and found some comfort in it. As he talked, he inched ever closer, so slowly that any objective observer wouldn't be able to say for sure that he moved at all. When he got close enough, he stopped, waiting for the right time. Then, quick as lightning, he pinned her arms and legs against her body, and brought her over to one of the cots in the room, where he tied her securely enough that she couldn't move. It wasn't a good long term solution, he knew that, and would rather have put her to sleep, and to have hoped that when she woke her mind would be clearer, but that wasn't an option with the concussion. He hated having to do it, and knew what her reaction would likely be toward him once she was free, but he was hoping it would keep her there long enough that she would come back to herself somewhat, and he thought he could probably make Parker understand what he had done, when she was Parker again, and that she might even forgive him. He would deal with the fallout later, though. The important thing right now was to help her.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's chapter 7. Hope you enjoy the new chapter. Thanks to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. The reviews, especially, mean so much to me. Thank you. It means a lot to me that readers like these stories.**

**I don't own Leverage, or any of the characters within, except for those of my own creation. I write for fun and not for profit. **

**Chapter 7**

Eliot walked out into Nate's living room, to find the team ranged there together, obviously waiting for him. Without a word, he walked over and sat down in his usual place on the sofa. There was a beer waiting for him on the coffee table. Picking up the bottle, he took a long pull on it. He knew they wanted an explanation of everything that had happened, and they deserved one, but he wasn't sure he wanted to go into all of it again so soon.

With a sigh, he rested the beer bottle on his knee, and spoke. "Parker is resting, though not necessarily comfortably. She has a pretty nasty concussion, so I wasn't able to give her anything for pain, and the concussion has left her confused. She doesn't know where she is right now, or who she is, nor does she know who we are. The amnesia will hopefully get better as the swelling in her brain goes down, but until that happens, I had to restrain her to keep her from leaving again. She's gonna need our help to figure out where's she been and what has happened to her in the meantime. Hardison, what did you find out about Peggy, and how she's involved in this?"

"As far as I can tell, she's legit. Since she moved here, she's been volunteering with an organization that helps women leave abusive relationships. Apparently, this one was challenging, and she called Alice to help, thinking that, as a spy, she might be able to help keep Gabby safe."

"Why didn't Parker tell us?" Sophie asked.

"How would she explain us? If Peggy thinks she's a spy, how do we fit into that scenario? Spies work alone, and when they don't, they don't make it known that they are working with a team," Eliot said, with a slight growl.

"Peggy met me at the Venezuelan embassy that night. She thinks my name is Marge," Sophie explained.

"And you know that Alice is a spy, but that doesn't mean that you're one as well," Nate said.

Maybe she was meeting with Gabby to evaluate whether this was something the team could handle before she brought it to us," Hardison said.

"Maybe. I think we'll learn more talking to Peggy herself, and we'll need to find out if Gabby has any next of kin who should be notified of her death. Hardison, can we make that happen?"

"Already on it," the young hacker said, fingers flying over the keys. "I can't find any records for Gabby's next of kin, but I found Peggy's office address. Moments later, he touched a key, and then reached over and retrieved a piece of paper from the printer. He handed it to Eliot, who passed it on to Nate.

"Nate, we're gonna have to play this carefully. Those who took Parker and Gabby before know where we are and how to get here—or we have to assume they do, anyway. Someone needs to stay behind and protect Parker. I'm going to ask Bonanno to inform Gabby's family of her death. I don't want you going after Peggy alone."

"Do we have a choice?"

"There's always a choice. Depends on how much you trust my friends."

"Which ones?" Eliot smiled, but didn't answer.

"Let's go steal a memory," Nate said.

(0o0)

Peggy was seated in her office in the warehouse she rented, and had set up as a commercial kitchen. Her office was in a side room off of the kitchen, and with the door open, she could hear her sous chef barking orders to the rest of the staff, and the occasional laughter that erupted as he cracked a joke. They had three wedding tastings this week, as well as an office party, two baby showers, and several fundraising events for several major charities in the area. She couldn't complain about the number of new clients that event at the Venezuelan Consulate had gotten her, but it was keeping them busy. They were still breaking in a number of the new staff they'd had to hire.

Ten minutes later, Peggy was engrossed in bookkeeping duties for the business, and she didn't notice when the kitchen fell silent, until she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said. She heard high heels thumping on the floor, and a moment later, she saw a woman she recognized standing before her. Two men came in and stood behind and on either side of her, and Peggy recognized one of them as well. He closed and locked the door behind him before taking up his position. Her heart sank, and she wondered what was going on.

"Marge, right? How can I help you?"

"Right. We need to talk to you, but I'm not sure it's safe to do so here. Would you come with us, please?"

Peggy swallowed once, and then again. "Where?"

"Back to the bar."

"I'll need to let my sous chef know. He'll have to handle the ten o'clock tasting."

"All right. Just tell him that you are going out. Don't tell him where."

She nodded, saved the file she was working with on her computer, and put it to sleep. Then she rose, took her jacket off the back of her chair, put it on and moved around the desk to join them. As she did so, there was a loud knock on the door of her office. They all stared at one another, and Shelley put his hand on his gun. Shaking her head, she walked around them, unlocked the door, and flung it open. She smiled widely at the man standing there.

"Hurley?" Nate said, under his breath. He and Sophie exchanged glances.

"Hi hon. This is a nice surpirse. What are you doing here?"

"I came to surprise you—to take you to lunch." His gaze fell on the others in the room, and he smiled widely.

"Nate. Hey, man. What's going on?"

"We came to take Peggy to lunch. We have to talk to her about something important. You may accompany us if you like."

Hurley started to protest, and Shelley drew his gun, taking the safety off as he did so. Hurley swallowed hard, but said, "Nate, what's this all about?"

"It isn't safe to discuss it here. We're asking you both to trust us, accompany us somewhere safer, so we can talk."

Hurley nodded. He had had cause to trust them twice now. Turning slightly, he looked at the other man in the room. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Eliot's friend. My name is Shelley." He looked at the rest of the team. "Let's go."

Hurley took Peggy's hand, and together, they accompanied the team to Lucille. When they were safely in the van, with Nate behind the wheel, headed back to the bar, Peggy decided she wanted some answers.

"Marge? What's this all about. Did Alice send you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. She was injured at the meeting you set up between her and Gabby, and she can't speak at the moment. We were hoping you could tell us the purpose for the meeting."

"Wait. What happened? Is Gabby okay?"

"Gabby's dead. We need to know why they were meeting."

"Since I moved to Boston last year, I've been volunteering with an organization that helps battered women escape abusive homes. Her husband apparently has some important friends in the government, and Gabby was afraid to leave him because she knew his friends would help him track her down, and she was afraid he'd find her and kill her, if she tried to leave. I put her in touch with Alice hoping she might use her connections as a spy to help Gabby hide from her husband, and to track him down, and put him in jail so she wouldn't have to hide forever. Now, I'm guessing that didn't happen."

"No. It didn't. From what you've said, it sounds like Gabby's husband caught wind of what was happening, and decided to stop her while he still could. Do you know anything about him?"

"No. I only had an address for her. She wouldn't tell me any more than that. I think that was her way of keeping all of us safe, too. Is Alice all right? Can I see her?"

"When we get to the bar, we might be able to arrange that. Do you know if Gabby had any next of kin?"

"Yes. Her mother. She lives up in the northern part of the state. That's where she was planning to go when we helped her escape, but she didn't want to do it until she knew her husband wouldn't be a problem. He knew where her mother lived, and she was afraid for the safety of her mom and her little sister as well. She told me she was worried that her husband would kidnap her little sister."

(0o0)

Eliot was pacing somewhat nervously, back and forth, in the treatment room. Parker was still not out of the woods, and she was angry besides. At the moment, she was refusing to look at him or to say a word, but her whole body was trembling with her fear and anger, and he was beginning to think she might never forgive him for what he'd had to do. He sighed, and paced back the other way. His grandmother would have told him he was going to wear a hole in the carpet. He wasn't really looking forward to what was about to happen with Gabby, but there wasn't really a choice. He hadn't been able to think of a way to get Gabby a decent burial while still protecting Parker and the rest of the team, and without asking Bonanno to risk his career, but what he was doing wasn't exactly legal, and he knew there was a very real possibility he or the team would have to answer for that.

Everything was ready, but he didn't like it. Gabby's loved ones deserved to be able to take her body, and dispose of it according to their own beliefs or traditions. They deserved answers, and closure. _She deserved protection, too, but she didn't get it, did she? _This was where the circular logic broke down, where his thoughts always ended up again.

As he fought to keep his thoughts from consuming him, to stay in control of his anger, there was a loud banging on the front door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Heart thundering in his chest, Eliot dropped into a defensive stance. The banging stopped, and then Eliot heard a voice.

"Hello the house." It was a phrase from her Irish upbringing, and one she used only among friends, and only in specific circumstances. Eliot stared at the door. There was no mistaking that phrase, even if he didn't recognize the voice through the heavy oak door. Straightening, he flung open the door, pulled the woman standing on the threshold roughly inside, and slammed the door behind her.

"Damn it, Kat. What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she motioned him to follow, and moved toward his treatment room. He moved to get in front of her, effectively blocking the door. She stopped and gave him a funny look.

"We can talk about it out here," Eliot said. That wasn't the private man she knew. She looked around, wondering where the team was. They weren't in the room at the moment, so maybe that's the reason he was all right with talking to her out here. She stared at him, asking a silent question. He stared back, and his gaze never wavered.

"If that's the way you want it," she said finally. "Two of the men on that last mission you were on have come down with hepatitis. I'll need a few tests." Eliot wanted to send her away, but he knew she wouldn't have come if this wasn't important. Eliot had a dilemma. If he let her into the treatment room, well, he didn't want to consider the implications of that. Being honest with himself, he didn't really think he'd have a choice. Doc was very thorough, and when her curiosity was piqued, she could be relentless. She was quiet for a moment, and then said, "We've known each other for a long time. I don't know what's going on here, but I'd like to help you, if you'll let me."

"I was trying to keep you out of this because I don't want you risking your career on my account."

"Let me choose what I'll risk my career over." He stood as though frozen for a moment, and then nodded and moved aside. They disappeared into the treatment room together. She stopped still in the doorway, taking in her surroundings. She saw Parker, tied to the cot—feral, angry. _There's a story there, _she thought. Then her eyes swept the rest of the room, and she saw someone else lying on another cot, but the person was too far away for her to tell anything about them.

Without a word, she moved over to the desk and opened her bag, looking for the supplies she needed. Eliot mechanically sat on one of the empty cots, and began rolling up his left sleeve. "Eliot," she said, quietly, "Talk to me my friend. What's going on?"

She stretched his arm out in front of her, swabbed the crook of his elbow with iodine and then with alcohol, and slid the needle into the vein. When the vial filled, she changed it out, and watched as it filled once more. Sliding the needle out, she bandaged the wound, lowered his sleeve, and buttoned it for him.

He stared at her for a moment, considering how much he wanted to say, and then, haltingly, started to speak. "Parker missed a late night meeting last night at the bar. We couldn't get her to answer her phone, so we tracked her comm, and when we went to where we thought she was, we found someone else there, wearing her clothes and her comm and carrying her cell phone."

Doc had filled a syringe while he was talking, and now she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed gently. Looking down and seeing the syringe, he understood what she wanted. He stood and unfastened his belt, lowering his pants just far enough to expose his hip for her. She heard his breath catch slightly as she injected him with the medication in the syringe, but she only said, "I'm giving you some IG. You're slightly overdue for your hep booster, and I'm not taking any chances. I see you found Parker. Why is she tied to her cot?"

"When she woke up, she didn't remember who she was, or where, and she was terrified of me. She was trying to leave, but she was in no shape to do so, so I had to make sure she stayed here. I couldn't knock her out because she has a fairly severe concussion."

"I see. Lie down, please." He did as she asked, and she probed his liver. Though he tried to hide it, she could tell it was a little tender. "I'll leave some IG with you. You'll need to give yourself more twice a day for the next ten days. In a few days, I'll come back and give you the Hep A and B booster."

"Thanks, Doc."

Nodding, she rose and moved over next to Parker. She was careful not to get too close. Parker was like Eliot in a way—she was more dangerous when she was injured.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Alice. Alice White." Doc exchanged glances with Eliot, who looked grim.

"What do you remember?" She rubbed her face with her hands.

"Not much of anything. I was supposed to be meeting someone, another woman, I think." Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, alarm pulsing through her body as though carried through her blood. "How's Gabby?"

Eliot lowered his eyes, and that gesture was all the answer necessary. Parker didn't say anything intelligible, but she made a noise in the back of her throat, and folded into herself. She started shaking again, and straining at the bonds that kept her secured to the cot. Instinctively, Eliot moved closer to lend her strength and comfort. She shrank away, and almost turned the cot over trying to get off. Doc took out her knife, and reached to cut the bindings that secured Parker to the cot. Parker shrank away from her, and Doc began speaking softly to her. After a moment, Parker was still tense, but she didn't try to move, and Doc used the knife to cut her bindings. Eliot was happy to see that she stayed on the cot, but he knew that might change if he got closer.

"It's okay, Parker," Eliot said, his tone almost pleading. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, Darlin'." Seeing her distress, he backed off to a safe distance. Parker started to calm down some.

"Parker, you can trust me, I promise. I just wanna help you, Sweetheart."

As he was speaking, Doc had risen and moved over to the blanket lying next to a woman, whom she now noticed was very dead, on one of the cots. Touching the woman's arm, she realized she was still warm. Rigor Mortis hadn't started setting in yet. Without a word, she gently closed the woman's eyes, and spread the blanket over her, pulling it up to cover the woman's head.

"What were you going to do, Eliot? Wait for nightfall and bury her in a shallow grave?" In all honesty, she understood that there was sometimes a need to leave a body in a shallow grave, and even in a place where it couldn't be found, but in all likelihood, she had family, who deserved to know what happened to her, so Doc would only agree to something like that as a last resort.

"No," he said, so quickly that she knew he had at least considered it. With a smirk, she said, "Well, I'm assuming you don't want to deal with having officials swarming over every inch of this place. Wouldn't be good for your team, now, would it? What other options do you really have?"

Eliot shrugged, and didn't answer. Watching him carefully, she said, "You could let me handle it for you. I bring bodies in often enough that no one would even question it. Of course, I'll expect the whole story."

"Of course you will. Why wouldn't you?" Eliot asked, with a touch of sarcasm.

Doc's voice grew hard. "Watch it, soldier boy."

"I didn't ask you to come here, Doc."

"I know that. But seeing as how I can't walk out and pretend I didn't see a body here, it's in your best interest to let me help."

Eliot nodded. "I know. I'm sorry, Kat. You didn't deserve that."

"You're under a fair amount of stress right now. We'll discuss it later. Help me get her in the van?"

"Yeah." On Doc's signal, they picked Gabby up and carried her downstairs. When they had her loaded into the van, Doc climbed behind the wheel and said, "I'll go get her squared away, and then I'll be back, and I'll expect some answers."

"Okay. Thanks. Kat."

(0o0)

Hardison had done some surveillance for the team in the past. Therefore, Eliot had asked him to go and keep an eye on Gabby's mother and her younger sister, who lived in the Northern end of the state. Eliot wanted to go himself, but he knew Parker would definitely NOT be okay waking up with a stranger in the room. Not willing to take a chance of putting Hardison at risk, Eliot had sent an acquaintance with him. Quinn wasn't someone Eliot could call a friend, not yet anyway, but he was someone who had served the team well once or twice, and he had exchanged a couple of favors with Eliot over the past few years, proving himself useful. For the right price, he could be trusted with this. Quinn was a man, much like Eliot used to be, who sold his services to the highest bidder. Eliot didn't fully trust him, but he knew Quinn was professional enough that he would do the job he was paid to do. Besides, Quinn knew Eliot well enough to know that if he walked away from the job, and left a member of Eliot's team vulnerable, Eliot would hunt him down, and exact his revenge. Eliot's revenge wasn't a prospect most people wanted to contemplate.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Nate and Sophie didn't know whether it was safe to bring Peggy and Hurley back to headquarters or not, since they didn't have any way of knowing the specifics of how and when Gabby had been returned. Quinn, Shelley and Eliot decided together that it was better for all of them to be in one place, a place they could more easily protect than if they were split up.

Shelley hadn't told Eliot of the addition of one person to their group, so when Hurley was one of the first through the door, Eliot glared at him. Nate, seeing his expression, held up a hand and said, "Easy, Eliot. Not his fault. He came to surprise his girlfriend, Peggy, for lunch." _Peggy and Hurley? _He didn't allow his expression to betray his mild surprise. He shoved those thoughts aside for later consideration and stepped back into the treatment room to check on Parker. She was curled up in a tight little ball, in one corner of the room, hugging a pillow. At least she wasn't trying to jump out the window.

"Parker, I need to talk to the rest of the team. Come on out here with us." Parker still didn't speak, but she slowly rose and limped toward the door. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was labored. Small beads of sweat covered her forehead. She sank to her knees a few feet shy of the door, and Eliot was surprised to see tears filling her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks.

"Easy, Sweetheart," he said gently, approaching her slowly and carefully, so he didn't spook her. Her knees had to be stiffening up, and Eliot doubted she would get far on them, but he couldn't risk scaring her and having her bolt again. Slowly and carefully, he approached the young thief, speaking slowly and in what he hoped was a comforting tone.

"Parker, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Let me get ya somethin' for pain." She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and if it had been anyone but Eliot, he or she wouldn't have noticed. As it was, he could almost believe she knew who he was, and knew that this was their routine when one or the other of them was injured. Glad to be able to help her, he rose and made his way to the cabinets that lined one wall, stocked with supplies. He removed a bottle of pills, as well as a vial and a syringe. Washing his hands at the small sink, he drew on a pair of gloves. He knew she would rather have the pills, but being uncertain about whether whoever had taken her knew about their headquarters, he knew they might have to move again, and he didn't want her having to try to traverse stairs. He knew she would insist on doing it alone, especially because she didn't really know or trust him at the moment, and he knew it would be better all the way around if he could carry her without her fighting and without causing her additional stress. Using his body, he shielded her from what he was doing, while he drew the liquid in the vial into the hypodermic.

Putting a finger on the ear piece in his ear, he spoke quietly.

"Hardison, I need you to find me any information you can on Parker's medical history. I need to know if she's allergic to any medication." He was reasonably sure she wasn't allergic to what he planned to give her, but since he usually gave her either ibuprofen or a narcotic, she hadn't had this drug before. With the concussion, he couldn't risk her falling asleep, and the amnesia made it impossible for her to tell him what drugs she was allergic to and which ones she wasn't, so he needed another source of information.

A moment later, the young hacker's voice sounded over the comm. "No idea. She didn't choose a regular doctor when she aged out of the system, and since the state handled her care before that, the records were sealed, along with all of her other juvenile records. If she's been to a doctor since then, she didn't give them her real name. I can do some more digging, try to hack into the juvenile records. It'll take awhile, though."

Eliot hesitated, knowing she might not want the rest of the team to know what those records contained, especially the man Eliot knew liked her, and Hardison tended to be overly curious about the personal lives of the rest of the team. "No, don't do that. This drug shouldn't cause an allergic reaction, and there's not really a choice." With one fluid motion, he switched off the comm.

Moving gently back over to her side, he spoke softly to her, watching her eyes grow wide as she saw the needle in his hand. She started to scoot back away from him, but he put a hand on her elbow. The grip was light, not enough to restrain by force, but enough to stop her progress. This had to be her choice.

"Darlin', I told ya before. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Just wanna see if we can make that pain go away." He knelt beside her, staying in a ready stance, in case she decided to bolt again, and waited for her decision. He saw the fear and pain warring with one another on her face. His grip on her arm turned to a hand on her shoulder, warm, supportive. Finally, the pain must have won out because she nodded, and turned her head away, scrunching her eyes up as she did so.

"Darlin', we need to get you better soon so you can go back to working with the team." He paused. "And I miss my sparring buddy," he added, almost as an afterthought. While he was speaking, he injected her with the contents of the hypo.

She kept her head turned and her eyes scrunched tight the whole time he was giving her the shot, and when she didn't move afterwards, he sat watching her, secretly amused at her reaction. Parker, on her best of days, was an interesting combination of tough-as-nails woman, and innocent, if somewhat damaged, child. After another minute had passed, judging by his internal clock, which was usually fairly accurate, she opened one eye, and then looked at him in consternation. She wasn't in the mood for games.

"Well?" she finally asked.

"Well what?" he asked, biting back a smile.

"When are you going to do it?"

"You DO talk," he said lightly, eyes dancing. He held up the empty syringe, smiling at her as he did so. "Already done," he said gently. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, as the implications of what he was saying sunk in, and then she opened both eyes wide in amazement, as she realized she hadn't felt it. He deposited the used syringe into the waste container he kept for such things, and spoke again. "Now, I need to go out and speak to the rest of the team. You have two choices. You can stay in here and rest, and I'll send my friend, Shelley, to sit with you temporarily, or you can come out and join us. I know the team would like to see you.

"I-I don't remember them. I'll stay in here." A fist of worry clenched Eliot's stomach. He knew she wouldn't ever allow herself to be left behind with someone she didn't know well under normal circumstances, and the behavior she was displaying now reminded him of just how much she wasn't herself right now.

Forcing a confidence he didn't feel, Eliot smiled and said, "Suit yourself." He stepped to the door and called to Shelley. When his friend came near, he spoke in a low voice, "Stay in here with Parker while I talk to the team." Shelley nodded, and moved past him into the room. Eliot motioned Parker to move back to her cot, and she stretched out there while Shelley stood at parade rest, just inside the doorway.

(0o0)

Peggy and Hurley were seated side by side on the sofa, while the rest of the team sat more or less across from them. Nate had continued the questioning like they hadn't ever been interrupted.

"What did Gabby do for a living?"

"Oh, her husband wouldn't let her work. He didn't want her to leave the house by herself. There was a period of time where she didn't come to our organization's meetings—either as a volunteer or as a client. He didn't want her to go anywhere without him. That's one of the key characteristics of an abusive spouse. They are very controlling."

"And you don't have a name for this man?"

"No. I'm sorry, I don't. She was worried that he would find out what she was doing, and we would all be in danger. It was an attempt to protect us, and in a way, an attempt to protect herself, too, however misguided you feel it might have been."

Nate let that comment go, got up and moved over to the kitchen. Sophie continued with the questions.

"And you mentioned you have an address for Gabby?"

"I do. Surely you can't think her husband is still there? After everything that has happened?"

"We don't know exactly what _has_ happened, do we? And it's a place to start."


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Hello all. Yes, I realize this is very late, and I offer no excuses, except to say I'll try to do better. If anyone out there is still following along, thanks for reading and following. If you feel like leaving a review, it would really make my day and make me do a happy dance besides. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy. **_

**Chapter 10**

Captain Bonnano suggested that he be the one to break the news to Gabby's parents about her death. That would serve the joint purpose of keeping the team out of the spotlight, and also allowing Bonnano and by extension, the State Police, to find out what they knew about their daughter's husband. Nate looked at Eliot.

"Somebody will need to check Gabby's place to see if her husband is still there."

"Parker doesn't need to stay by herself, and she has no business going back there right now."

"It's time to call in reinforcements," Nate said, stating the obvious.

"Ya think?" A wave of fatigue washed over Eliot, making his sarcasm more biting than normal. He cursed himself when Nate tilted his head sideways and studied Eliot more closely. Eliot lowered his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Everything okay, Eliot?"

Eliot briefly considered telling Nate that everything was fine, but he knew that they were going to be stretched to the limits on personnel on this one, and he had his own rules about working with the group. The first one of those rules was to Never, Never lie about his own well-being when it could be a danger to the team. He looked at Nate appraisingly for a moment, as if deciding how much to tell him. Finally he made up his mind about something and speared Nate with an icy gaze.

"You really want to know?" Nate nodded. "Meet me in the treatment room in fifteen minutes, and bring the rest of the team with you. I'm only going to explain this once."

Fifteen minutes later, Nate ushered a grumbling Hardison and a curious Sophie into the treatment room Eliot had long ago set up just off of Nate's apartment. Eliot was waiting for them. He smiled widely as he listened to the younger man.

"None of you understand what it is I do, do you? You don't appreciate any of it. I got too much to do to sit here and twiddle my thumbs just 'cuz Eliot says so." Eliot growled and the young man fell mostly silent, still grumbling under his breath.

"Settle down," Eliot growled. "You wouldn't be here if this wasn't important." He smiled his almost wicked, _I'm-up-to-something, _smile and continued, "But, since you're in such a hurry, you can go first."

Hardison swallowed hard. He recognized that tone of voice. Something was about to happen which he would not like very much. He stole a glance over at Eliot, and for the first time, realized he was wearing surgical gloves. That must mean this was a medical call. _When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?_

Chuckling quietly, Eliot put a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. He spoke to Nate, though.

"You remember that last mission I went on with Vance?"

"I think so. Tehran, right?"

"Yeah. Well, a couple of the men on that mission are showing signs of Hepatitis. Kat came by earlier to let me know, and she did some tests while she was here. She also shot me full of immuno-globulin, just in case." Without thinking, he rubbed the spot on his rear where she had injected him.

"So what does this mean?"

"It means that I could get sick, although I think if I were going to get sick, it would have already happened." He gazed appraisingly at the mastermind for a moment, then continued, "It also means that you all have had a secondary exposure. SOP in a case like this is to give you all a few days dosage of the antidote and quarantine everybody for a few days, until we know for sure that no one is sick." He paused again, rubbing his forehead as he did so. "Look, Nate, I know this is not happening at the best time, but that's not something I can control."

"And Parker?"

"Well, she's already been exposed, so I think the best we can do is give her a dose as well, and quarantine her with me, so I can keep an eye on her."

"When do you think she'll remember what happened to her?"

Eliot shook his head. He didn't know. "All I can tell you is she'll remember when she's ready."

"Doc won't help?"

"Think that through, Nate. Do you really want my military buddies involved in this? Right now, she's agreed to take care of Gabby's body—that's a separate issue, and one she has a reason to be involved with. Still, she's gonna want a reckoning for that when she comes back to check on me. If you tell her everything, she won't agree to be involved in just a part of this, she can't—she'll be involved in all of it—and bring the rest of the team with her."

"Why?"

"She can't legally know the details of what we are doing without having to report it. And when she reports it, others get involved. It's that simple."

"Okay, so we don't involve your military team. I sure hope you have a plan B."

"Of course. We'll discuss that plan after all of this is done." _In private, _he thought, but didn't add.

"Sure. What about our guests?"

"They only have a tertiary exposure. We can probably just give them a dose of the vaccine, keep an eye on them tonight, and let them go on about their business tomorrow."

"So this means you'll be giving us all shots," Hardison interrupted.

"Yes, but that's not all it means. It also means that we'll have to lay low for a day or so, to be sure nobody gets sick. I received what's called a primary exposure, so I'll have to take doses of the antidote for the next ten days. You all have received a secondary exposure only, at this point, which means that you won't have to take as many doses of the antidote, but you'll have to do it for more than a day but less than a week. Probably five days. As for our clients and friends, I think they can get by with one dose and a day's quarantine. If I do become ill, your exposure will be upgraded to a primary exposure, and the length of the treatment will be lengthened as well. In just a moment, I'll ask Sophie and Parker to stay here, and ask everyone else to step out into Nate's living room. I'll do a couple of tests, and then administer the antidote. I'll do the same afterwards with you and Hardison.

"Then, we'll all come back in here and do what we can from here for a day or two. When you are free to leave, I won't be, so I'll send some reinforcements with you while you work. Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse us, I'll need to see the ladies first."

Hardison, grumbling again, only louder this time, allowed Nate to steer him out of the room with a hand on his shoulder. When they were gone, Eliot closed and locked the door behind them, and looked at Sophie.

"I need you to lie down over here." She rose and moved to the cot right next to his. She stretched out, kicking off her shoes as she went. He was finished with the girls ten minutes later. Parker had been a bit of a challenge, but with Sophie there to help, she had allowed him to do what he had to do.

He wondered if Hardison would. Spearing Sophie with an intense gaze, he asked, "Will you escort Parker outside and stay with her, while I see to Nate and Hardison?"

She nodded, then grimaced as the IG made its presence felt. He smiled at her, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before he said, "It won't hurt as much if you keep moving."

"Good to know."

He held the door for the girls, expecting Nate and Hardison to see them leave and present themselves. When they still weren't there five minutes later, he growled at no one in particular and said, "Nate! Hardison! Don't make me come and get you" rather loudly.

Nate stepped into Eliot's line of sight in the hallway, and motioned him down to where they were. When he got there, Nate whispered, "Alec excused himself and went upstairs about seven minutes ago, presumably to the water closet, since he couldn't use the one in the treatment room. He hasn't come down."

Eliot nodded and didn't answer. Escorting Nate somewhere that allowed a tad more privacy, he sat the mastermind down and proceeded to examine him. After he drew the blood he needed and probed the liver, Nate broke the silence.

"Now will you fill me in on this other plan you mentioned before?"

"I have another friend I can call in for Parker, and Quinn owes me a favor. He'll provide adequate protection, I believe."

Nate laughed. "I thought all of your friends were either military or fellow hitters."

"Who says she isn't?"

"Then how can she help if Doc can't?"

"Because she's ex-military, which means that like me, she no longer answers to anyone but herself, and those to whom she chooses to answer."

"Meaning she doesn't have to report to anyone, and no one else gets involved."

"Exactly. I've asked her to dinner, so you all can meet her."

"Are you sure Quinn can be trusted?"

"He knows my reputation. We can hire him to protect the team, I think."

Nate nodded. Eliot stripped off his gloves and replaced them with new ones, while Nate was thinking about what he wanted to ask next. When he saw the syringe, he started to roll up his sleeve, but Eliot shook his head.

Raising an eyebrow, Nate gazed at the hitter curiously. Eliot simply stared back at him.

Taking the hint, the mastermind unfastened his belt, and the button on his pants, and then walked over and faced the wall, planting both hands out beside him. Neither of the men made eye contact as Eliot gave him the injection, but Nate cursed softly as he felt the after effects of the IG.

As Nate put his clothing back to rights, he asked, "Are you going to need help with Hardison?"

"No. I can handle it, but if you feel better being there, or you think he'll feel better with you there, you're welcome to come."

Nate followed the hitter out of the alcove they had ducked into, and went to check on the girls, while Eliot made his way upstairs as quietly as possible. Starting with Nate's guest bedroom, he flung the door open and stalked inside. He was unsurprised to find the room empty.

Eliot closed the door behind him without making a sound and headed back down the hallway the way he had come. He stopped briefly outside of Nate's upstairs bathroom, listening. He thought that he had heard water running, but there was no sound coming from there now. After a moment, he moved on down to Nate's master bedroom, knocking lightly on the door as he did so.

"Hardison?" he asked. No answer. He opened the door and quickly cleared the bedroom, en-suite bath and closet. Unless he had somehow managed to sneak downstairs, and Eliot knew within reason that he hadn't, he had to be either in the linen closet or the guest bathroom.

Moving back to the guest bathroom, Eliot turned the doorknob, only to find it locked. "Damn it, Hardison," he growled loudly in his scary voice, "open this door and let me in."

There was no answer and the door remained locked. Had the man crawled out the window? Eliot knew the younger man had an issue with needles, but this was ridiculous. Eliot's patience snapped and he said, "Hardison, open this door or I'll break it down." Nothing happened for almost a minute, and Eliot was getting ready to make good on his threat when he heard a shuffling sound and then a snap as the lock was turned. Eliot counted to ten to give the young man some space, and then carefully opened the door.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, gazing appraisingly at the man before him. Hardison was seated on a small stool Sophie had set up over by the whirlpool tub. He was studying his hands intently and refused to look up.

"Wanna tell me what this is all about?" Eliot asked, softly.

Hardison swallowed hard. "No, I really don't."

"Suit yourself. I'll just do what I have to do, then." With that, Eliot moved to the sink and washed his hands. Then, he drew a pair of gloves out of his bag and pulled them on. He rummaged in the bag for supplies he needed, paying no attention to the younger man. All the while, Hardison was watching him, growing more and more anxious.

"Wait," he said, as Eliot turned back around. "I'm refusing treatment. If you touch me, under the law, it's assault."

"You do realize that if you don't allow Eliot to treat you, you won't be able to work with the team, right?" Both men looked up in surprise to see Nate leaning against the door frame. The older man looked tired, and he looked like he could use a drink.

"Why not? I may not even get sick. Eliot said himself that he may not even get sick."

"Hardison, have you ever seen someone with Hepatitis, up close and personal, I mean?" Hardison shook his head, looking back and forth between the two men, unsure who to answer first.

"I have. It isn't pretty. You could die from it." Eliot told him.

Nate said, "I won't gamble with your health, any more than I would gamble with anyone else's on the team. If you won't allow Eliot to give you the antidote, I can't allow you to work with the team. I hope you'll at least let him examine you to be sure that you aren't already coming down with it. If you won't look after your own health, you have a responsibility not to risk exposing anyone else."

"So, you're willing to risk losing the person who hurt Parker because I won't allow Eliot to give me a shot that may not even work? 'Cuz that's what you're doing if you don't let me work with the team."

"That's a chance we'll have to take."

Hardison wasn't happy that neither of them were backing down. He knew if he insisted on carrying this through to the end, Eliot and Nate would be angry with him, and he might find himself without a place on the team. One of his biggest fears was that they might decide they didn't need him anymore. He couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Eliot looked at Nate. Nate said, "I hesitate to send him off alone. I worry that that will make him a target."

"I can ask my friend Shelley if he'll stay with him. He's had the same exposure."

"Where?"

"How about the safe house on the North side?"

"All right."

Hardison looked back and forth between them, unable to help feeling a little betrayed. "You mean, you're kicking me out?"

"I prefer to think of it as temporarily relocating you for your own safety." The mastermind's voice broke on the last word, causing both Eliot and Hardison to look at him more closely. A bit sheepishly, he continued, "I couldn't stop Sam from getting sick, but if there's any possibility of stopping you… I won't lose any more of my family. I-I can't—" He broke off, looking more lost than Eliot had seen him in a long time. Then, he mumbled an apology and shuffled out of the room.

Eliot leveled an icy stare on the younger man, who was studying the floor again. "Damn it, Hardison," he growled. "Quit this crap and tell me what's going on."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"I can't. I'll go on to the safe house." He spoke without looking up. "E-E-Eliot?" he faltered, as he met the hitter's eyes and the man's palpable anger. Eliot didn't answer, but he stared at Hardison, clearly waiting for him to continue, so he did. "Tell Nate I understand why he wants me there, and I don't blame him. I bear him no ill will, and if he sees fit to kick me off the team for this, I'll understand."

"Man, you have a lot to learn," Eliot said, shaking his head. Then, he growled and added, "Go, before I change my mind. And let Shelley in when he gets there, yeah?"' Hardison nodded.

(0o0)

The black SUV pulled up to a pretty bright blue house on a corner lot in the suburbs. The driver parked on the road, careful to avoid blocking other driveways or mailboxes. A tall man stepped out of the car, walking up the walkway with a limp. He rang the doorbell and then stood, waiting for an answer. He didn't receive one. After a moment or two, he knocked on the door. Still no answer.

Nonchalantly, he walked around the house to the back. A beautiful vegetable garden took up about a third of the back yard, standing behind a chain link fence. The rest was tall trees and grassland. Although the garden was well tended, the land, at this moment, was deserted. Hadn't Spencer said that Gabby was afraid her parents and her little sister would be in some danger from her husband? Was that why there was no one home? Bonanno took out his phone and sent a text message, as he walked to the car.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Eliot was in the kitchen making his signature lasagna for their supper when there was a knock on the door. Nate wondered if this was Eliot's friend, the woman he had called in to help Parker. He opened the door to find a beautiful Asian woman standing there.

"You must be Nathan Ford. My name is Lee. I'm a friend of Eliot's."

He held the door wide and stepped back so that she could enter. With a lopsided smile, she stepped inside, bowing slightly to Nate as she came. He returned the bow and then said, "Why is it that all of my friends look like old men, and all of his friends look like you." She let out a small laugh, delighted.

After a few seconds, a gravelly voice called out, "Lee, come and get some wine."

"Excuse me for a moment, please," she said, walking past Nate and into the kitchen. She returned a few moments later cradling a glass of wine.

"Eliot said to tell you he'd be ready in about five."

"Okay."

"So, when can I meet the rest of the team?"

"In about five minutes."

As if all of them had been sent a subliminal message by Eliot, they all gathered at the table exactly five minutes later. Laughter flowed around the table, and they found they quite enjoyed Lee's presence there. When they had finished eating, they still sat for a few minutes, talking.

Lee looked around the table and then said to Eliot, "You know I always enjoy your food and your company, but I get the feeling that you brought me here for another reason. Why?"

Eliot looked around, a tad uncomfortable. "Come visit with me in the kitchen while I clean up the dishes, and I'll explain everything." Together, they cleared the table, stacking the dishes into one side of Nate's oversized sink. Eliot turned on the hot water and swirled some dishwashing detergent into it while it was filling up.

When he still hadn't spoken after three minutes, Lee said, "Well, are you going to tell me, or are we going to do this song and dance all night?"

Checking the air vents to be sure they were alone and finally satisfied that they were, Eliot said, "A certain member of our team was taken last night. She was meeting with another woman, a woman involved in a long relationship with domestic violence. The second woman left her husband and she seemed to think he would come after her. When Parker, the woman on our team, found her way back to us, she was soaking wet, withdrawn, and she either can't remember what happened to her or she won't tell us. I'm not sure which."

"You can do what needs to be done, so why did you call me?"

"She's terrified of me, and won't allow me to touch her. She can barely tolerate being in the same room with me, and the only reason she stays is because her knees are injured badly enough that she can't run. I don't even want to think about what will happen in a few days, when she's better, if we can't get her back to understanding that we are on her side and we won't hurt her.

"So you want me to talk to her?"

"I want you to talk to her."

"I'll ask again, then. Why me?"

"Because I don't want to get all of my military buddies involved."

"I see."

"I hoped you would." He paused, looking uncomfortable, and she got the feeling he wanted to say something else.

"What is it, Eliot?"

"She doesn't want to talk to anyone. She'll be angry when she finds out I brought you here to talk to her."

"Well, I can be here for a different reason, if you think it'll help."

"Has anyone told you lately how wonderful you are?"

(0o0)

Bonanno's phone beeped and he looked at the text message. When he finished, he called in to his office, barking orders in rapid succession at the sergeant who answered the phone. He also picked up the phone and called Hardison directly, setting him to tracking the sister's phone. Between that and the state police putting out an APB for the husband's car, it should only be a matter of a few minutes before they knew something.

Sure enough, moments later, Bonanno's phone beeped again, and he looked at the message. He hung up and dialed. The phone rang four or five times before a slightly out of breath Eliot answered.

"Little busy here."

"Spencer, it's Pat Bonanno. My men have located the car registered to Gabby's husband. It was found abandoned in a vacant lot three miles from the house."

"Yeah, Hardison just traced the sister's cell phone to the back seat of that car. I was just getting ready to send the coordinates to your men."

"If you can send it directly to the Sargeant, I'll stay here and see what the house and grounds can tell us."

"Sounds good. Thanks Pat."

(0o0)

Parker was surprised when Eliot walked back into the treatment room after supper, accompanied by Lee. She shrank back against her cot, and seemed to be trying to blend in to the wall.

Parker stared at Lee, and then, abruptly asked, "What is SHE doing here?"

Lee spoke up. "Eliot is my friend, and I came to ask him for some help with a medical matter." With those words, she handed a small drawstring bag to him.

He took it, opened it, and looked inside. "What is this?" he asked.

"I've been asked to lend a friend a hand with an overseas project. I need several vaccines I haven't yet had. I wondered if you might give them to me."

"Why not Doc or Sully?"

"Both of them are extremely busy at the moment, and I'm supposed to have some of these at least two weeks before I ship out. Please, Eliot."

"Okay, but if I do this we do it according to my rules."

"I can live with that."

Eliot pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and started to prepare the vaccines. He glanced at Parker to find her watching with fascination. Casually, he said, "Maybe we can spar when we are finished here."

"I'd like that," answered Lee.

He noticed Parker perk up a bit when he mentioned sparring, so he said, "Parker, would you like to join us? I know Lee can show you some things, and it'll be a different experience sparring with someone nearly the same size you are."

Parker looked up long enough to nod once, and then went back to studying her hands. When Eliot was finished with Lee's vaccines, he pulled her to her feet and led her over to the part of the treatment room he had set up as a training gym. Looking at Parker, he jerked his head in the direction of the training room, and she joined them, still hanging back as far from him as she could physically get.

Eliot struck a balance between strenuous workout and his knowledge of Parker's injuries, intending to make it meaningful, but not too painful. After thirty minutes or so, he could tell Parker was really hurting, so he directed her to go back into the treatment part of the room, and sit. After that, it was no holds barred between him and Lee. They were like a controlled explosion all over the training room floor. Finally, they collapsed, spent, and lay trying to catch their breath. Parker sat watching them and trying to pretend she wasn't watching them. He thought that maybe he was finally getting through to her.

Eliot sat down on the cot across from Parker, bringing his first aid kit with him. He reached out and took one of her hands in both of his, and looked her in the eyes. She pulled away, and moved as far from him as she could get, making herself as small as she could. Eliot flinched like she had slapped him.

He reached out to tweak a strand of her hair, and she flinched away again. He said, "What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing. Just please, don't touch me."

"What about your knees?"

"What about them?"

"Don't they hurt?"

She shook her head, still trying not to cry. Eliot looked at her appraisingly for a moment, as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth, and then asked, "Are you sure?"

She nodded. He thought he could understand where she was coming from on this—it was the same for him when he was injured—you couldn't allow the wrong people to find out or you had to expect them to use it against you. Right now, she couldn't remember who he was, or any of the rest of the team, either, so she had no way of knowing that they were not the wrong people.

"Parker, when I am injured in a fight or something, I don't want anybody to know. Do you know why?"

She shook her head. "Because I don't trust others not to take advantage of the weakness when they find me injured. I trust you and Sophie and Nate and Hardison because you have become like family to me. I trust my former military team because I have a history with them, and that history tells me that none of them are dangerous to me. You don't remember this, but we have a history, too—a history of treating one another when we get injured as part of one of the team's operations. That's all I want to do now—treat your injured knees and get you some medicine so you won't be up all night. Will you allow me to do that?"

She turned her head away and refused to look at him, embarrassed. Slowly, she shook her head, afraid that he would be angry with her, but unable to bring herself to say yes. He gazed at her sadly. "I can't help you then."

(0o0)

Lee laid a hand on his shoulder, and without speaking, told him she wanted some time alone with Parker. He shook his head, slightly, trying to tell her it wasn't a good idea, but Lee was having none of it. With a sigh, he left the room, leaving her alone with Parker. Lee walked over to the small refrigerator Eliot kept in a corner of the training room, and pulled two bottles of water out of it. Cracking the lid on one, she took a long swallow, and then she walked back over and, as she passed Parker, put the bottle on a small table next to her cot, and then took a seat at the desk, completely ignoring Parker and checking something on her phone.

"Thank you," Parker finally said, and Lee looked up at her and smiled.

"You're very welcome."

"Why are you still here?"

"What?"

"Eliot did what you came to ask him to do, dinner's over, and you've sparred, so why are you still here?"

"Eliot is my friend, and we will hang out for a while. Besides, I can't leave just yet. I have to be here for a few hours to be sure I'm not allergic to anything he gave me."

"He gave you a lot of shots. Do they hurt?"

Lee nodded, unwilling to lie to someone whose trust she was trying to gain. "I'm not gonna lie to you. They hurt, but not as much as it would to get one of the diseases they are protecting me from. And probably not as much as if Eliot hadn't agreed to give them to me. He's good at stuff like that. Why are you in here?"

"I'm not really sure. I just know that my knees hurt, though I don't remember how I hurt them. I can barely walk." Parker didn't know why she found herself telling this stranger things she wouldn't normally tell anyone. Suddenly, a scene popped into her head—one that felt real, but there was no way to be sure.

_Parker stood, leaning on the railing next to the docks, waiting for the woman Peggy had asked her to meet. She was looking for a petite woman, with long blonde hair, who should come walking up any minute. Then, she was sailing over the railing, and she tried to grab onto something to keep from falling into the water. She plunged into the water, swam underwater to the edge, and climbed out. A moment later, she was slammed into something hard, and as the darkness rose to meet her, a face swam into her vision—a face she found familiar somehow, though she was sure she had never seen the person before, at least not in a long time. _

"Hey, are you okay?"

Parker came back to herself, and her eyes focused in on Lee. She suddenly felt awkward, as though Lee could see all of her secrets.

"I'm fine. I seem to have landed hard sometime, but I don't remember it." She paused, thinking, and seemed to want to ask something else. Lee didn't push. She just watched her and waited.

"Well, for someone who has injured knees, you did a good job sparring with us."

"Yeah. It seems to me like I've done that before, but I don't remember the details. The man who was sparring with us? You—know him, don't you?"

"I do. We've been friends for a long time. Why?"

"What sort of man is he? He keeps calling me Darlin' and telling me he won't hurt me, and he says we know each other, but I don't remember that part. And I don't know if I can trust him or not."

"He's a good man. The very best kind. And you can definitely trust him."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Eliot Spencer would die before he'd hurt you." She broke off, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. Then she said, "You know, a shower would probably help your knees. I noticed a small stool in the bathroom that we could put in there, so you could sit down."

Parker appraised the woman before her for a moment, then turned half away. "I-I don't think so."

"If you change your mind, let me know. I'll just start the water for you and put the stool in there, and set out a towel where it is within easy reach for you. Then, I'll hang out with Eliot unless you tell me you need help again."

"Well, it would be nice to be clean. Do you think it'll help?"

"I do."

"And you won't stay?"

"Nope, though I would like to talk to you again when you are finished. I think we might be able to work together to make a composite sketch of the people who took you. Might give your team a place to start."

"I could draw their faces if I was sure I remembered them accurately."

"You'd be surprised how much will come back when you start to draw." The younger woman looked like she was about to sit down at the desk and start drawing now, and Lee knew she needed to shower first, for the sake of her knees.

"Shower first. Draw after," she said, pointing Parker in the direction of the restroom.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12. Enjoy. I don't own, and I don't profit. Leverage and the Leverage characters belong to John Rodgers, Dean Devlin, and/or TNT. Thank you for reading. **

**Chapter 12**

Parker was seated at the desk Eliot usually used in the corner of the treatment room. She had a small sketchpad in front of her, with partial faces penciled in. The faces lacked the features she wasn't sure about.

Lee was seated in one of the chairs in the room, doing some work of her own, and surreptitiously watching Parker in case she needed help or decided she wanted to talk.

"These are the only features I am sure of," Parker said, holding up the sketch pad and looking at Lee. But Lee was staring straight ahead, with a strange expression on her face. A moment later, she slumped sideways in the chair, and started wheezing as she struggled to breathe. Without thinking too much about what she was doing, Parker hobbled out the door and into Nate's living room.

Eliot's eyes grew wide when he saw her, but she spoke before he could. "I think your friend is sick. She needs you." Without a word, Eliot rushed to follow her back into the treatment room. Lee was writhing on the floor when he got to her, and then suddenly stopped and lay eerily still. Eliot quickly checked her for any injury, then he hurriedly rolled up a blanket and used it to elevate her feet.

Opening his desk drawer, he grabbed an epi-pen, and pulled the top to pop the needle out, then plunged it into the side of her leg. Parker watched wide-eyed, but she didn't say anything. Eliot watched Lee closely, and when nothing happened after the first dose, he jabbed her with a second one. After a moment, her breathing evened out, and she started to stir. He scooped her up and put her on one of the cots, and then seated himself in the chair next to her. A moment later, he had started an IV to continue fighting the anaphylaxis.

"Thank you, Parker. You probably saved her life." Parker didn't answer, but she smiled her genuine Parker smile at him. He looked at her appraisingly for a while, and then said, "How are you feeling?"

"A little better," she said, haltingly. She traced the outline of the faces on her pad absently, and Eliot noticed.

"What's that you have there?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, looking at the pad as if noticing it for the first time, "Lee thought if I could draw the people who took me it might give you a place to start to find them."

"It might."

"The problem is, I can't seem to remember what some of their features look like. She told me she could help me, but I don't think she'll be able to do that now."

"Can you trust me to help you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Lee told me I can trust you." She paused for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed, and then continued. "Can you make my knees feel better first?"

Eliot bit back the urge to say something sarcastic, knowing that, in her mind, she was a taking a big chance by trusting him. He smiled his charming smile, and said, "Yes, I believe I can. Just a moment." Sticking his head out the door, he asked Sophie to join them, and after a minute or two, the attractive grifter walked inside. At Eliot's signal, she sat down on the other side of Parker, and said, "I'm Sophie. You might not remember me right now, but you and I are friends. I'm so glad to see that you are doing better. All of us, the whole team, have been worried about you."

While Sophie was talking to Parker, catching her up on everything that had happened over the past few days, Eliot was busy wrapping her knees and making her more comfortable. When he finished, he sat there, watching Lee like a hawk, until Sophie trailed off. Then he said, "May I see the drawings you made, Parker? Maybe we can scan them and run them through Hardison's facial recognition program to see if we get a match."

Parker tossed him the sketchpad and said, "Knock yourself out, Sparky." She froze. That nickname. Where did it come from? She hadn't meant to say it, it just popped out. She half expected him to be angry about it, but he just chuckled a bit and said, "It's good to have you back, Parker. Part of you, anyway."

"What's wrong with Lee?" Sophie asked.

"She had an allergic reaction to one of the vaccines I gave her. She'll be all right in a day or two probably, but she would have died if Parker hadn't come to get me when she did." As he spoke, he took out his phone and scanned it over the drawings Parker had given him. Then, he set the facial recognition software to scanning. All in all, there were several hundred matches. He was able to narrow those somewhat by applying filters, such as filtering obvious facial deformities and other obvious markings, since Parker would probably remember those. There were still too many potential matches.

He looked again at her drawings, and realized he couldn't even tell if they were men or women.

"Parker, tell me about the people who took you."

"What do you want to know?"

"For starters, are they men or women?"

"Two men, one woman." She looked at the drawings and frowned, then she motioned for Eliot to hand the paper back to her. "One of the men has a scraggly beard, like Shaggy Doo."

Eliot watched as she drew in a scraggly beard on one of the faces. After a moment of thought, she also drew in a moustache and goatee on the other male of the trio.

"Good. Now, I want you to close your eyes, and picture bearded man's nose." He paused. "Is it round and bulbous or hooked like a beak? Is it large or small?"

"It's prominent, but not too big. It is hooked, but not in a bad way. It is striking, and gives his face a regal look."

"Draw it like you see it in your mind. Don't open your eyes." She did so. Eliot was pleased to see that the cognitive interview was working. A face was starting to emerge from the lines and shadows on the paper below. When she was finished, he moved on to the next part that wasn't filled in.

"What about his eyes?"

"They were cold eyes, evil, almond shaped and aquamarine."

_Aquamarine?! That was certainly an unusual identifier, and it might help them find him if someone had noted it before. That is, if he had a record. _

"Why do you say they were evil?"

"They were."

"What happened that makes you think so?"

"He-he," Parker broke off and looked at him wild-eyed. "I can't—" she said.

"Take it easy, Parker," he said, as he saw how worked up she was getting. He quickly changed the subject. "Can you draw in his eyes?"

She did so. He moved on to Mr. Goatee, and soon they had a complete composite of both men. Eliot scanned them to his phone and started the facial recognition again.

He appraised Parker for a moment, and then spoke. "Thank you, Parker. I know it wasn't easy to do what I asked, but it may help us to identify the men who took you."

He suddenly felt very fatigued, and his stomach was killing him. He sank down on one of the cots in the room, and stretched his feet out in front of him. He rested his back against the wall. Droplets of sweat broke out on his forehead and upper lip, while chills ran up and down his spine. His eyes slipped closed.

(0o0)

A second later, Eliot heard a woman's voice calling his name.

"Eliot?"

"I'm okay, Sophie. I'm just resting my eyes."

"You just keep telling yourself that." The voice chuckled softly._Wait. That didn't sound like something Sophie would say, though he never exactly knew with Sophie. _He didn't spend too much time thinking about it, though, as he found himself sinking back into the comforting warmth that surrounded him. He felt a stinging sensation, as unknown hands gently slapped his cheek and called his name.

"Eliot?" Moments later, the voice called again. "El-i-ot." He didn't respond. He couldn't wrench himself away from the warmth of the place he was in to answer. "ELIOT!" the voice demanded, and he started the slow climb back to consciousness. A few moments later he opened his eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here's chapter 13. Thanks to everyone who is reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. It's good to know you like the story. Reviews really make my day. I don't own Leverage or any of the characters or worlds within, save those of my own creation. I write for fun and not for profit. I don't write slash. Hoping you enjoy, and that you'll drop in and let me know what you think. **

**Chapter 13**

_Parker had not taken the interview well. She refused to make eye contact with Sophie, but she snuck furtive glances at Eliot, who seemed to be unconscious over on his cot, and at the desktop computer screen, which Hardison apparently had rigged to sync with their phones, and which was now running the sketches Eliot had scanned with his phone against hundreds of faces in a variety of databases, looking for a match. _

_As she thought about them, and turned her attention to them, she heard a loud beeping sound which indicated that a match had indeed been found. She looked up at the screen and found herself riveted to the face in front of her. She couldn't look away. This was the man who had taken her, yes. She recognized him—felt the heat of his eyes on hers, smelled the stench of his breath in her face, shrank again under his touch-his weight—on her. As she looked at his face on the screen, in the safety of this room, she realized that she knew him from somewhere. Not anywhere recent, but he was definitely familiar to her from a time before the team. Well before, she thought. _

_She sat turning the picture over in her mind, trying to place that face, those eyes. Eyes she had seen before. Her thoughts were as fragmented as the images running through her head. An idea occurred to her, and she reached into her pocket for her phone to follow through, before she changed her mind. She dialed Hardison's number, reasoning that if anyone could find her the answers she sought, it was him. _

_When his picture, the one he had uploaded of himself and saved to her contacts, appeared on her screen, he stared back at her through aquamarine eyes, and smiled a knowing smile. _

"_NOOO," she yelled. She yelled again, louder. She heard wicked, almost inhuman laughter coming from the phone, and when she looked down at it, her captor's picture had replaced Hardison's. He winked at her and blew her a kiss. Horrified, she scrunched her eyes tightly closed and flung her phone away from her, as hard as she could. She took a sort of perverse pleasure in hearing it shatter against the wall. _

A moment later, she wrenched her eyes open. She was covered in cold sweat and half sobbing/half hyperventilating. She couldn't catch her breath. She caught a glimpse of her usually brilliant and unflappable friend, Sophie, who hadn't made a move to help her, but simply stared at her, dumbfounded.

Another voice sounded from somewhere on her other side a moment later and asked, "Parker, are you all right?" Turning her head, she saw Nate looking at her with concern. She nodded, but she knew it wasn't very convincing. Nate and Sophie exchanged glances, and then Sophie said, "Eliot didn't want his military friends involved."

"I know that, but Eliot can't help us, and I have no idea how to handle any of this, so unless you do, we're in way over our heads here. We need their help."

Parker heard Eliot's voice in her head, barking at her to control her breathing. She tried to do that and concentrate on the conversation at the same time, but she found it impossible to do so. Finally, she gave up and focused on her breathing, reasoning that one way or another she would know the conversation soon.

"You do realize that Eliot's going to hate this when he finds out."

Nate nodded. "I'll deal with that when the time comes."

Sophie considered for a moment, then nodded in agreement. It wasn't like they had many other options.

Nate knew what he had to do. Eliot had shown him the number, and explained that this was a one-shot deal, only to be used in a real, dire emergency. He didn't know if this is what Eliot would consider an emergency, but in his mind, it counted. Now, it was just a matter of convincing himself to dial. He didn't like the idea of having to rely on others. Drawing his phone out of his pocket, he stared at it for a long time. Once he even punched in a digit or two, but then he stopped, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something. Eliot usually had a reason for everything he did, and if he didn't want his buddies involved, maybe the team should trust that instinct.

While Nate was deciding to do what he knew they had to do, the door to the treatment room opened, and Hardison walked in, followed by one of Eliot's military friends, a young man Nate had only met once before. Nate's eyebrows drew together and his eyes narrowed.

"Hardison, I thought we agreed that you were staying at the safe house on the North side until the danger passed. You haven't been vaccinated. You can't be here." Nate looked daggers at his hacker, but it was the other man who answered.

"Well, it hardly matters now. We're both acute. That makes Alec here a potential target, and knowing that Eliot would have vaccinated all of you, Doc suggested that it would be safer from both a strategic and a medical standpoint to keep all of the acute cases in one place. She's on her way." Seeing the look on Nate's face, Shelley said, "arguing with Doc when her mind is made up is about like arguing with a hurricane."

"I heard that," Doc said, hiding a smile as she closed the door behind her. Shelley winced, and the smile finally erupted, only to be quickly suppressed. She nodded to Nate and Sophie as she took in the room, and then moved rapidly over to Parker's cot, watching her closely. The young woman had a blank look on her face, but she seemed to be concentrating hard on something, and her breathing was clearly labored, though she seemed to be trying to control it.

Her voice was calm and steady as she guided Parker through the breathing exercises that would bring her breath back under control. "Ignore the distractions. Focus on my voice. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Again. And again. Good, Parker. Keep going."

When Parker was no longer in danger of suffocation, Doc turned to her and asked, "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" She hated that question. No, she didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to pretend it didn't exist. She shook her head, reaching into her pocket for the phone and finding it empty.

"How did YOU get here?" Parker asked, eyeing Doc warily.

"I came here because Shelley called and asked for my help, and because Eliot owes me some answers, though he doesn't appear to be in much shape to supply them at present."

"I need Hardison," she sputtered, looking around for him. "Where is he, anyway?"

Hardison spoke up, "I'm here, Momma."

Parker craned her neck, as if looking for him but unable to find him. Finally, she gave up and said, "Hardison? I need your help. That facial recognition software you have—I know it will do age progression, but will it do the opposite?"

"It will if I tell it to, Babe. Why?" The 'why' was a bit absentminded, as Hardison was momentarily more interested in the fact that Doc sat down beside him. He turned his head to look at her. She smiled and nodded toward Parker. He turned his attention back to her just in time to hear what she had to say.

"One of the men who kidnapped me seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him. I thought if you could do a series of age regressions for different periods of time, I might recognize him."

"Babe, do you know what you're asking? I can give you an age regression, but it isn't an exact science. I don't have any way of knowing what experiences shaped his life, or which ones might have had an effect on his appearance. And it'll take some time. Possibly a lot of time depending on how many you want."

"I know, and I realize I'm asking a lot from you. I also know that they may not be 100 percent accurate…." She broke off, embarrassed to be asking but not knowing what else to do.

"It's a good idea, and definitely worth a try," said Doc, staring at the faces on the screen before her, reading the names attached to them. Adam Lance and David Kelley.

A moment later, she shook herself and moved over to the chair next to Eliot's cot.

"Eliot?" she asked, uncertain whether or not he was awake.

"I'm okay, Sophie. I'm just resting my eyes," he said, words slurred by sleep.

"You just keep telling yourself that." Doc chuckled softly. Concerned that he wasn't becoming more alert, she began gently slapping his cheek while she called his name. "Eliot?"

She waited a moment, then slapped his cheek again, harder this time, and called out, "El-i-ot." He didn't respond. "ELIOT!" she demanded. A few moments later he opened his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Eliot's eyes opened, but he didn't see anyone. He tried to turn his head but that only convinced him that it would fall off if he did it again. A moment later, the outline of a person came back into his line of vision. He squinted, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. She smiled as she set down the small bowl of water she was carrying and seated herself in the chair next to his cot.

"Doc?"

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Stomach hurts. Sleepy. Why are you here?"

"Mister Shelley called me because both he and Mister Hardison came down with acute cases of Hepatitis. It makes sense from several standpoints to bring all of the acute cases to one place, and treat

you all together."

"Hardison hasn't been vaccinated."

"We'll take care of that first, then." Eliot's eyelids were getting heavy, but he was trying to force himself to stay awake so that he could answer questions as needed. Doc's eyes never left Eliot as she reached into the small bowl and withdrew a washcloth. Wringing it out, she folded it in thirds and placed it on Eliot's forehead as his eyes finally slipped closed.

"Rest, my friend," she said quietly.

(0o0)

Nate, Parker, and Sophie, all of whom were not acute, and in fact, were not yet showing any signs of Hepatitis, had been shooed out of the treatment room by Doc, so they would not have any greater exposure than they had already, and so there was more room for everyone who was acute. Hardison was seated on a sofa in a corner of the training room, with his laptop open on his lap, working on the age regressions Parker had asked for. Shelley was camped out near Eliot, changing the compresses used to bring both Lee and Eliot's fevers down, at the other end of the smallish room. Doc kept looking at her phone, with a worried expression on her face. Shelley wanted to ask her about it, but he knew better than to do so in a room full of civilians.

Doc had moved over to the desk, and was busy doing something with her back to the room. A few moments later, she sat down in the chair next to Hardison, and spoke in a low voice. "Eliot tells me that you wouldn't allow him to vaccinate you. Would you care to tell me why?"

Hardison looked down at his hands and didn't answer. She continued watching him and he swallowed hard, feeling like he needed to say something. "It's not a secret that I'm afraid of needles."

"I think there's more to it than that. You've been afraid of needles as long as I've known you, and it hasn't stopped you from allowing Eliot to treat you before. Why now?"

Hardison looked pained. "It's silly. And I'm a coward."

"Alec Hardison, you stow that right now. You are not a coward. You are one of the bravest people I know. And there's nothing silly about fear—whether we think it's a rational fear or not. Now, I'm assuming it's something from the past?"

He nodded, taking a deep breath.

"_When I was five, before I went to live with my Nana, I was staying with my uncle—my dad's brother—while my parents tried to work some things out at home. My birthday fell around two weeks before school started every year, and that year, my uncle promised that he would take me out to eat for my birthday, and also shopping. The Ninja Turtles were popular that year, and I wanted the action figures." _

Hardison glanced at Doc, and she nodded at him and smiled, but her eyes were deadly serious as she watched him closely.

"_I was so excited when he picked me up from summer camp early. Instead of taking me shopping, he drove straight to the county Health Department. Didn't even tell me what was going on. He just led me into the treatment room, told me to sit in the chair, and left me there alone, locking the door behind him so I couldn't follow him. When the nurse came in, she found me screaming to get out and banging on the door to the lobby. I guess she thought I was a danger to myself or others, so she restrained me, facedown, on my stomach. I was terrified and so, of course, I fought back by kicking my legs and flailing. She told me to calm down and stop, and when I didn't, she left and brought a really big man back with her. He pinned my arms and legs so I couldn't move. She then yanked my pants down to my knees, and it felt like she backed up and threw the needles at me like she was throwing darts. Over and over again she jabbed me, as hard as she could, all the time telling me that if I hadn't been such a bad boy she'd have been able to give me the shots in my arm, like she normally did, and that this was my punishment for my behavior. When she was finished, she pulled my pants back up, and I was so bruised it hurt to sit down. _

"_She took me back out to my uncle, and told him what had happened. He thanked her, put me in the car, and drove me home. He told me that we weren't going to dinner and he wouldn't buy me the action figures because of my behavior that day. Then, as usual, I had to sit in a hard wooden chair at the kitchen table to do my homework. He took the cushion out, saying that I needed a reminder that actions have consequences, and made me sit there until my homework was done and supper was eaten. When I started to cry, he told me if I didn't stop he'd take his belt off and give me a reason to cry." _He felt the heat rush to his face and was suddenly embarrassed that he had told her. He had never told anyone about that memory and he thought he knew what Eliot would say about it if he knew.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I think I understand better now why needles frighten you so much, and why this situation might be especially hard for you."

"Please don't tell Eliot. He won't understand."

"You might be surprised," Doc said, then, seeing the look Hardison gave her, she spoke again. "Don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me. He won't hear a thing here."

"Thank you."

She withdrew the syringe from somewhere on her person and looked at it and then at Hardison.

"Well," she finally said, "What do we do now?"

"What do you mean?" Hardison asked.

"When Shelley called me, I called the surgeon general to report it. I had no choice, as the Hepatitis is a direct result of a military mission, and it could very well be turning into a public health crisis. In a very short time, this will most likely officially become a military issue. When it does, I will be the military medical authority, and it will be my job to make sure everyone is vaccinated, civilians included."

Her eyes bored a hole into him, but her voice was gentle when she continued, "When there is imminent danger of an epidemic, military medical regulations don't recognize vaccine exemptions for personal reasons, and I can't relocate you because you are already infected. That leaves me with very few options. Two, to be exact. Both involve you receiving the vaccine. In light of what you've just told me, I'd rather it be voluntary on your part. I won't force it until I have to."

Hardison thought for a moment and then said, "Do what you have to do."

"Close your eyes. Relax."

Hardison couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, and instead stared at her.

"Trust me." She brought one hand down in front of his face, closing his eyes for him. That hand dropped to his shoulder and stayed there, lending support. Moments later, the hand disappeared briefly, and he heard Doc's voice, speaking softly to him. He felt a coolness as the smallest area of his hip was exposed to her, and then the coldness of the alcohol swab.

"So, did you ever get the Ninja Turtle action figures you wanted?"

"No. Shortly after that, my parents were killed in an accident, my uncle was arrested for writing bad checks, and I was sent to live with my Nana. After I got there, there was no money for that sort of thing."

"I see. And I believe we're finished here."

He opened his eyes to find her disposing of her materials. He hadn't felt anything. He smiled widely and said, "Thanks, Doc."

She nodded at him and smiled. "Thank you, Mister Hardison. I know you are working on the age regressions for Parker, but make sure you get some rest, too, okay?"

He nodded and went back to work. Doc's phone vibrated in her pocket, and she drew it out and looked at it again.

(0o0)

Eliot's phone beeped that he had a text message, but he didn't open his eyes. Shelley contemplated waking him, knowing that it might be important, and pertinent to the case Eliot was working on, but he also knew that Doc would likely be unhappy if he woke his friend because he needed the rest. When it beeped again two minutes later, Shelley decided the situation must be urgent, and he nudged Eliot but received no response.

Nudging him again, harder this time, Shelley also said his friend's name, "Spencer! Phone."

Doc moved over next to them, watching Eliot carefully. She placed two fingers on his wrists and counted out his pulse. Ordinarily, when she did that, Eliot's other hand would be around her wrist, not hard, but to keep her from moving until she discussed his condition with him. The fact that he hadn't made any type of response worried her.

She reached down and gently retrieved Eliot's phone from his pants pocket, knowing the messages were probably important to whatever it was the team was working on. She would have one of his team members check his phone.

"Well, his pulse is strong and he is breathing well. Elevate his legs about a foot, and keep saying his name. Let's check his blood pressure. Do what you can to bring him around. I must speak to the rest of his team. Hardison, with me."

"Yes, ma'am," the two men said in unison.

With those words, Doc Carrington made her way out to Nate's living room with Hardison in tow, where the rest of the team was gathered, watching a movie. Nate's eyes locked on hers as she moved to where they sat. Without a word, Sophie paused the movie they were watching.

"Doc?" Nate questioned, voice laced with concern. "Is everything all right?"

"I will answer your questions, all of them, but before I do, I need to talk to you. Time draws short."

"All right. Talk."

"You have a decision to make, and you don't have a lot of time to make it. I shouldn't even be telling you this, so please hear me out before you say anything. I don't know what you all are working on. Eliot didn't want us involved, for whatever reason, but I know it had something to do with the death of a young woman, whose body is in my morgue as we speak.

"When Shelley called me to report that he and Hardison were acute, I had to turn around and call the surgeon general's office for instructions. There was no choice. The hepatitis was a direct result of a previous military operation and because it didn't show up until everyone was back in the States, countless people have been exposed, which makes it a potential public health nightmare. My best guess is that the SG will declare it a military operation and place everyone involved under martial law until the threat has been contained and eradicated. What that means for you is that this area will soon be swarming with Feds, who have the power and the blessing of the government to paw through things, touch them, read them, confiscate them if they decide to do so. They will have the technology with them to match names to faces to voice prints to retinal scans to digital fingerprints. If you try to stop it or blow it up, you will find yourselves in Federal prison, or worse."

"So what do we do?"

"What I'm proposing is that you let Vance declare the military mission and report to the SG that he is doing so—that way, he'll be in charge of it, and I'll be the medical authority. Together, we can protect you somewhat. At least, we can be sure that your true identity remains hidden from the outside, and we may be able to keep you out of jail."

"Wow. What other options do we have?"

"Not many, I'm afraid. The wheels are already in motion. How do you feel about relocating, presuming, of course, that we could get you out of the city without any casualties?"'

Nate just stared at her.

"That's the prize behind Door Number 2. Door Number 3 is attempting to complete your mission under the noses of some of the greatest investigative minds in the country. I fear that won't end well."

"What if Vance can't keep us safe?"

"He can and he will, or we'll both die in the attempt. Which is preferable to what will happen if we get caught anyway, so…"

"And you are sure Vance will go along?"

"He'll do it, for me and for Eliot, if for no other reason. But if we do this, we have to know everything you can tell us about your mission. You can't hold anything back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Then gather your team, Mister Ford, and talk among yourselves, but do it quickly. If you don't, the SG will assign someone, and it may be Vance or it may not be, but once that's done, there's no going back."

Nate looked around at Sophie, who nodded slightly. He looked at Parker, who nodded her agreement.

"Have Eliot and Hardison agreed to this plan?"

"Eliot is unconscious at the moment, which is one reason I'm doing this. As for Hardison, I brought him with me, so you can ask him yourself."

Nate looked to Hardison, who said, "I vote Vance. At least that way, I can use my technology without it being tracked and recorded, which may not happen if someone else is in charge of the mission."

Doc broke in. "Speaking of technology, Eliot's phone beeped twice, and I thought it might be important. It usually is if he has it set to beep instead of vibrate." She handed it to Nate, who passed it back to Hardison and looked back at Doc.

"All right then, it's unanimous. How do we make this request of Colonel Vance?"

"I'll take care of that."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Armed with pictures of the men they were looking for, Quinn was camped outside the address that Spencer had texted him, watching to see if anyone came or went from the house. He had been sitting in one position so long that he had lost feeling in one foot and his stomach hurt at being crammed into such a small space. He didn't relish standing up, but knew he would have to stretch soon to get rid of the cramp. Quinn turned his attention back to the house as one of the curtains fluttered, and he tried to determine if anyone was inside. These were not the jobs he was used to…he was used to hiding, taking pictures, and knocking heads together, but on his own terms; not at the command of someone else, and especially not someone like Spencer. Still, it was an easy enough job, and he was getting paid very well for it. Spencer had hired him for a few jobs after Quinn had called in the favor the other man had promised him and he was starting to think that in addition to business partners, they were on their way to becoming friends, as much as hitters had friends, anyway.

Quinn sent a text, informing Eliot of what he had seen, and what he hadn't, and requesting further instructions. If he were running the job, he would probably go busting through the door, and let the chips fall where they may. Playing cat and mouse had never really been his style, and though he knew what Eliot's team suspected the man of doing, he had also seen the picture, and the guy didn't look all that tough. Hitters could tell, though other people might not believe how or why they could tell, but they could. There was something—some kind of hardness around the eyes and mouth, something about the way they moved, something in their manner that set them apart.

Fifteen minutes passed, and then half an hour, and he had received no response to his text message. It wasn't like Spencer not to have answered him right away, though he wouldn't if he were engaged in something. Tired of waiting and needing to stretch, he made his way under cover of trees, closer to the house. The last eight or ten feet or so was more open, and it would be harder to avoid being seen, if anyone was watching. He waited for a long time to see if his movement had been noticed—if anyone came to investigate the (quiet) rustling of the bushes. No one did.

Quinn scoped out the area. He saw a tree. If he could move fast enough, he could be behind that tree, or up in the top of it, and a person could be standing in the house or anywhere outside it and would be hard pressed to see him. Quinn was poised with one knee bent, ready to dart behind the tree, when he heard a voice in his ear and the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

(0o0)

Hardison swallowed hard as he carefully opened Eliot's phone. He knew what a private man Eliot was, and somehow, looking at his phone without his knowledge or consent felt wrong. He resolved to seek only the information he needed. When he scrolled to the text messages, he saw that there was one from Bonanno and another one from Quinn. He swallowed hard as he read both silently. Up to this point, he had thought he knew what Eliot did. Busting heads seemed pretty simple. But right now, he had no idea what to tell these people—not even any idea what Eliot would tell them. He had no idea how much strategy was involved in Eliot's job.

Hardison jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Another hand set down a glass of orange soda at the same time.

"I didn't mean to startle you." The mastermind stood behind him, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

"No. I just wasn't expecting you, Nate, but I'm glad you are here. What do you think Eliot was thinking?"

"About keeping us safe. Protecting Parker."

"So what do I tell these people?"

Hardison held Eliot's phone out to the mastermind. Nate took it and read the two messages silently. Finally he typed a new message, then another before he closed the phone and handed it back to the other man.

"What did you say?"

"We have a responsibility to keep Quinn clear until we know what Vance and Kitty want to know about the mission. We can't risk him being captured and put in prison. I'm going to meet him at the safe house in fifteen minutes. I've asked Bonanno to meet me there in forty. I'll touch base when I've finished. If you don't hear from me in an hour, call Bonanno's men and tell them what is going on, and ask them to investigate."

"Got it. Be careful, man."

"I always am."

(0o0)

It took Quinn only a matter of moments before the person pointing the gun at him was disarmed and staring down the barrel of his own weapon.

"Why is that?" Quinn asked, looking the man up and down.

"What?"

"When I started to go near that house, you told me you wouldn't do that if you were me. Why is that?"

The wide eyed man didn't answer, but stood, biting his lip and trying to figure out what he could do.

"Nothing to say, huh. Maybe we should just go see." Dragging the man by his collar, Quinn crossed the open area with him in one hand and his gun in the other. He hauled the man up the concrete steps onto the small stoop, and practically threw him through the front door, but not before kicking it open first. His captive landed in a heap on the floor inside the door, and Quinn smiled a wicked smile of satisfaction. Just then, his phone beeped. _Now Spencer decides to answer me. _

Working quickly and efficiently, Quinn bound the man to a chair by hands and feet, and then cleared the house, room by room. He didn't know what Spencer's plans were, but he didn't need any nasty surprises messing them up. He saved the room with the window he saw from his position outside the house for last, as he was unsure of what he would find there.

He choked back the bile that rose in his throat at the stench in the room. He flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that the tiny bedroom had dingy walls that were once white. A metal bed frame sat in one corner of the room, with a thin mattress and a threadbare quilt. The shag carpeting was worn and discolored, though that might have been an improvement, and the lace curtains had holes in them. At first glance, the room was empty, but Quinn didn't miss the chains attached to one wall. He thought he had heard a surprised gasp when he entered the room, and he knew no one had left. Besides, his captive was way too nervous for the room to have been empty. Someone was here…somewhere. It was simply a matter of finding them.

He followed the chain until it disappeared under the closed door of what presumably was a closet. He tried to open the door, but it appeared to be locked. He was hesitant to kick in the door, since he wasn't sure how far the chain extended, nor where the person attached to it might be in relation to the door. He slid a lethal looking knife out of his boot, and slid it between the door frame and the door and popped the lock. Opening the door carefully, he stepped inside. Huddled against the wall beside the door was a small figure. The figure tried to disappear into the wall at his approach. He reached with the knife to pop the lock, and heard a terrified sob.

"Shh. Don't move and I won't hurt you."

The figure froze and a moment later, he had popped open the shackle that held the person there. Judging by the size of the figure, she was female, but in the dimness, there was no way to tell. He unceremoniously picked up the figure huddled there, and walked back out the way he came. When he got back out into the hallway, where sunlight shone in the windows, he put her gently down. He drew his phone out of his pocket and looked at the message.

"Are you able to walk?"

"I-I think so."

"Good. Here's what happens next. We're going to walk outside, get into my truck, and I'm going to take you somewhere safe and get you some medical attention. I have some friends who would like to talk to you."

"No. I just want to go home."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have to insist," he said, knife still in hand. He motioned her forward and she walked down the long hallway to the foyer. When they got there, Quinn hesitated, looking around him.

"Let's go before they come back." He didn't answer. "What are you looking for anyway?" she asked, after another moment.

He shook himself, as if to rid himself of a bad dream, and said, "Nothing. Let's go," as he helped her into his truck and closed the door.

He hadn't said anything out loud because he didn't want to alarm her. The man he had tied up and left there was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Nate and Sophie were talking quietly over a glass of wine, when there was a mild commotion outside. Four massive black SUVs squealed a little as they turned sharply into the parking lot and came to an abrupt stop. All of the back doors and the hatches opened, and a small army of people jumped out and scattered in different directions. The front driver's side doors opened and Vance, and Kitty got out of two of them, and the other two drivers disappeared to wherever the others had gone. Even in plain clothes, the two senior officers made a striking pair, carrying themselves with a military bearing. Nate had walked to the window to see what was up, and he was a bit taken aback when he saw that many people descending on his building.

Moments later, there was a light tap on the door to his apartment, and Nate opened it to find Kitty standing on the threshold. Nate stepped back and held the door wide, so that she could enter. She nodded to the room at large, and then looked at Hardison. "Is our intel correct that you have two empty apartments in this building?"

Shooting her a funny look, Hardison said, "Yes, there are two empty apartments in the building. Why?"

"With your permission, Vance would like to set up in one, so that we are not right here on top of you all, and I'd like to set up the other for people who might need treatment, so I don't have to bring them to the treatment room here, yet I'm close enough to treat those that are here also."

Hardison nodded, but Nate interrupted. "Why here?"

"Have you read Edgar Allan Poe, Nathan?" Doc asked quietly.

Nate nodded once, and then said, "I'm guessing you will want to meet with us at some point."

"As soon as we've settled in and gotten the equipment set up." With that, she took the keys Hardison held out to her, and moved off down the hallway toward the empty apartments.

Hardison cast a sidelong glance at the mastermind, who was now pacing back and forth, seemingly lost in thought. The older man looked up and saw Hardison looking at him, and crooked an eyebrow.

"Why did she answer the way she did when you asked her why they decided to set up shop here? It doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense, if you've read Poe." Seeing that his hacker still didn't understand, he asked a question of his own.

"What was Poe's favorite place to hide things?"

"He hid things in a lot of places."

"What do all of those places have in common?"

Hardison looked at him blankly and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. He still didn't know what the mastermind was getting at.

Nate decided to go ahead and give him the answer. "He hid things in plain sight, and yet in places no one would think to look. Under a floor, behind a wall, hanging from the ceiling."

"By which Doc means what, Nate?"

"I think she meant that by setting up shop in the building, anyone else involved would assume that she or Vance had already questioned us or investigated our presence, and would therefore leave us alone. Let's hope she's right."

Nate left his hacker contemplating what he had said, and went about the business of gathering his keys and phone. To Hardison he said, "I'm going to meet Quinn at the safe house on the North side."

"And if Doc comes back in here wanting to know where you are, what should I tell her?"

"Tell her I had a couple of errands to run for the job, and I'll be back soon. While I'm gone, I want you to be sure our aliases are as secure as they can be. Doc and Vance know the truth, of course, but if there's a possibility of anyone else poking around, we need to be sure we're at the top of our game. When you finish that, see what you can find out about the two drawings Parker made for us. Complete backgrounds on both of them, as far back as possible. And make sure they aren't also someone else."

"Will do."

Nate walked out of the apartment and made his way quickly and quietly down to the parking lot. He tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible as he got into the black sedan and started it up.

Doc paused in setting up her treatment room when she heard the door to the staircase creak slowly open and heard distinctive footsteps moving off downstairs. She caught the eye of one of the men below, and nodded, and he moved to one of the black SUVs and watched until Nate's sedan cleared the parking lot, and then followed. Satisfied, she turned back to the task at hand, speaking quietly into a device on her wrist as she did so.

(0o0)

Quinn parked his truck under a tree in the parking lot of the address where Spencer had arranged to meet him. He walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door, helping his charge down as he did so. She took two steps and faltered, so he scooped her up and carried her into the building through a side door, and up the back stairs. He put her down at the top of the stairs, amid protests that she could walk.

Alarm bells started going off in his brain. Something didn't feel right about this. He wanted very much to draw any one of the weapons on his person, but he didn't want to scare the woman with him, and there were only about two situations he could find himself in here, and in neither case would his weapons help him very much. The first was that Spencer was setting him up for some reason, and if that was so, he had no chance with weapons unless he could shoot from a distance and Spencer was too good for that. The other possibility was that someone had set Spencer up, and was lying in wait for him, and if they were good enough to get Spencer, his weapons would be no help to him. Still, out of habit, he put one hand on the weapon hidden in his shoulder holster, while he used the other to steer his charge down the hallway.

Spencer's text had told him to go up the stairs and to the third door on the landing. The door was standing slightly ajar, and that told him that something was up. In one smooth motion, he kicked the door open, escorted his charge inside, and crouched into a defensive stance to clear the room. A middle aged man with curly dark hair was seated at the desk, watching him intently. To his credit, the man didn't flinch away from him.

Quinn froze.

"Well well, If it isn't Nathan Ford. Where's Spencer?"

"He's around. Who is this?"

At that point, Quinn did draw his weapon and he pointed it at Ford.

"Don't ever lie to me again," he said, in a dangerous voice. Nate sat calmly, hands raised instinctually against the weapon. "I know Spencer well enough to know that if he were here, he'd be sitting there instead of you. Since I now know he isn't here, what's to keep me from killing you right now? I don't like games."

Nate swallowed hard. Most people wouldn't notice, but Quinn did, and it brought him a degree of grim satisfaction.

"I called you here to try to ensure your safety, since you are helping my team, however temporarily that may be."

"Explain."

"There's an epidemic in the area, and the military has been called in. The officers involved are acquaintances of Spencer, and they are setting up shop in our building as we speak. I didn't know if the Feds were looking for you or not, and figured I had some responsibility to keep you clear of them since you are helping us at the moment."

Quinn nodded in acknowledgement and thanks. "Where's Spencer?"

"He's been hit by the epidemic, and is ill."

"This is a young lady I found being held captive at the house. I captured one of the men holding her, but he got away while I was rescuing her. I doubt he'll be back, but I'll continue to watch the place for a few days anyway, to be sure."

"Thank you. I'll make sure she gets the care she needs. Can you describe the man whom you captured?"

"Average height, but really thin. Scraggly looking beard. Eyes that are just a bit too close together and bushy eyebrows. Mousy brown hair and brown eyes. Extremely pale, like he's been shut away from the sun for a long time. Seems almost sickly, but he's not the only one—he had somebody helping him."

"How do you know that?"

"He couldn't have escaped my bindings by himself, and I left him barely conscious."

"Good to know. Thank you."

Quinn left and the young lady he had brought with him sat watching Nate without speaking to him. He felt—safer somehow, and less intimidating. Catching her watching him, Nate said, "How are you feeling?"

She didn't answer. He cocked his head to the side, and tried again. "I won't hurt you. One of the members of my team is mixed up in all of this somehow, and I just want to help you both. Can you tell me your name?"

"Rachael."

"Thank you, Rachael. I need to ask you a few more questions, but I'd like to do it somewhere more comfortable, and I'd like to make sure you have eaten, and your medical needs are taken care of before we do anything else. Is that acceptable?"

She nodded, still not speaking. Slowly he approached her, not wanting to scare her, and putting one hand under her elbow, he steered her to his sedan and helped her to buckle herself into the passenger seat. Then, he sped off toward his apartment.

After a moment, the black SUV that was parked around the corner pulled out and began to follow him back, keeping enough distance so as not to make it obvious.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to get this latest chapter out. RL has been extremely busy lately. Better now. This is shorter than usual because the next part is more involved, and I didn't want to make you wait much longer for it. **

**Usual disclaimers apply. I don't own, nor do I profit. I write for fun. Hope you all enjoy. **

**Chapter 17**

Parker was sitting in the treatment room, staring at her hands and thinking. Too much thinking. She alternated between wracking her brain trying to remember what happened to her, and replaying over and over the bits and pieces she did remember. In the middle of all of it, she saw flashes of a face and shrank in remembered fear. And she couldn't shake the feeling that it was a face she should know. She wished she could just shut her brain off and stop thinking and there were times that she didn't even have to have her eyes closed to feel his hot breath on her face, or his weight as he pinned her down. She didn't know how it would ever possibly get better, and at the same time, she didn't know how long she could stand this. She just wanted to slowly fade away, until she was invisible. In her mind, she saw her soul shatter into a million tiny pieces and watched as it got carried away on a breeze.

"Parker?" asked a somewhat raspy, gravelly voice. When she didn't look up, he said her name again, louder. "Parker!"

"Eliot. You're awake," she said, feigning a cheerfulness she didn't feel. He looked at her appraisingly. Then, he pulled himself into a sitting position, and forced himself to stand up. He moved stiffly across the small room, and dropped into a chair next to her.

"What's wrong, Darlin'?"

"Nothing." He simply stared at her, waiting. The longer he watched her, the more defensive she grew. "I said there's nothing wrong."

Eliot's expression didn't change. He simply continued to watch her. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, and she rose and left the room, leaving Eliot staring after her.

She needed to go somewhere, anywhere else before Eliot came looking for her. She didn't think for a moment that he wouldn't. Quickly and quietly, she climbed up into the air ducts and closed the vent behind her. Then, she moved a little way down so she could think without being seen. She studied her mental map of the building, trying to figure out where each path would put her out. Finally, she began crawling down one duct, until she came to where it connected with another. Turning down that path, she continued to follow it along. Finally, when she thought she had gone far enough, she kicked open the vent cover and slid to the ground, only to find that her injured knees gave way, sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Well, hello there, Parker," Doc said quietly. "I'm glad you dropped in." Parker was struggling to get up.

"Don't get up. Let me look at your knees first." Doc was already kneeling by the young thief, and at her pained nod, she began sliding the younger woman's pants legs up. A moment later, she said, "Well, you'll need an x-ray, and maybe an ultrasound, too. Come on. Let's get you up." With those words, she pulled the little thief up and put one of the girl's arms around her own neck and helped her hobble over to one of the cots Doc had set up in the room. While Parker stretched out and tried to get comfortable, Doc wheeled over a portable x-ray machine. A moment later she was finished, and she looked at Parker appraisingly.

"If you don't stay off your knees for a while, you will need surgery."

"I know. That's what Eliot said when he treated them before." She saw the way Doc was looking at her, and felt as though she needed to explain, so she said, "I needed to get away from the offices for a while."

"I see," Doc said, and went back to the paperwork she was completing at her desk. "You may stay as long as you like. You don't have any business trying to walk back anyway." The silence enveloped the room and grew until it was something with a life of its own. Parker, swallowed by her own thoughts, tapped her foot on the floor, suddenly a bit uncomfortable with the silence, to which she had never been a stranger before.

Doc watched the younger woman surreptitiously, but resisted the urge to say anything. In her experience, people told others what was on their mind when they were ready, and Parker didn't tell anyone anything. Ever. She had grown a lot in the past few years, and from what Eliot had said about the girl, she had started trusting the team enough to tell them little things, but something like this? She still couldn't trust anyone that far. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Doc understood where she was coming from.

"I-I just wish that I could go back to a place before any of this happened. I feel like everyone but me knows exactly what happened to me, and I don't know how I feel about that. Sometimes, I just wish I could fade away. One part of me wants to track down the people who did this and kill them, while another part of me doesn't want to find out exactly what they did, because when that happens, I can no longer pretend that nothing happened to me out there." She paused. Doc started to say something, but fell silent when she continued. "Mostly, I just want to fade away into the universe, or else go far away to a place where I don't know anyone, and start over. A place where I don't know anyone, and where no one knows me—no one knows what happened."

Doc was mildly shocked that Parker had chosen to speak like that, and to her—someone, who, in Parker's world, was a virtual stranger.

"Were you raped?" Doc asked, wincing inwardly at asking so bluntly, but knowing that Parker wouldn't respond well to attempts to soften the question.

Parker refused to make eye contact, and instead looked down and away as she answered.

"That's the problem. I don't remember. Maybe."

"Do you want to remember?"

Parker nodded, still not looking at the other woman.

Doc asked gently, "Parker, have you told anyone else on the team?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, it isn't like this is something I can just blurt out in a team meeting. 'Oh, by the way guys…'" She let that thought trail off.

Doc nodded her understanding. "I thought you might have mentioned it when Eliot was treating you."

"And have him run off half-cocked to find and dispatch the people who did it? Besides, I didn't want to hear him growl about it all night. That'd be a pleasant conversation."

The girl had a point. Still, it was something they needed to know earlier. Didn't really matter now anyway, though.

"Is that the reason you came to me?" Doc asked, in a sudden burst of insight.

Slowly, Parker nodded. "I want to remember what happened to me. I want to know why the face I see in my mind is so familiar to me, as though I've seen him somewhere else before now, too. And I want to do it on my own terms, without having to see the team's looks of pity and despair."

"I can help you with that, but you're going to have to trust me, and to do what I say."

Parker nodded, using her hand to brush the tears away from her eyes when she thought no one was looking. Doc allowed herself a small smile, both impressed at the girl's bravery and touched by the trust she offered.

(0o0)

Eliot had walked the length of Nate's apartment looking for Parker. When he didn't find her, he decided that she must have gone into one of the air ducts, but he wondered how. Her knees were healing nicely, but they were still injured, and she would have trouble climbing up and crawling through the air ducts. Either that, or she had gone outside, to one of her usual haunts, but that would require going up, which would also be taxing on her knees.

He stormed back into the treatment room, his face lightning and thunder. Hardison gulped when he saw the look on the hitter's face.

"What are you doing, man?"

"Looking for Parker. I need to talk to her. Have you seen her?"

"Only for a moment, when she stormed out of the treatment room. She went on out the front door."

"Dammit, Hardison. Why'd you let her leave?"

"Have you ever tried to stop Parker when she's determined to do something?"

Eliot's only response was a frustrated growl, and then he launched himself out the door behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

Nate parked his car in his usual space in the apartment complex's parking lot, and made his way inside, helping Rachel up the stairs. His intention was to go immediately to his own apartment and check in with his crew before he determined what his next steps were. That plan just wasn't destined to happen, though, and as he came through the upstairs door from the staircase, he was met by two men in black suits. For a moment, his only thought was that he wished Eliot was here, as he would probably be able to identify them, along with their branch and specific duty assignment. As they stepped up on either side of him, he felt Rachel's fear, as she edged closer to him. He nodded reassuringly, as he spoke.

"Gentlemen, I live here. I'm just going to my apartment. Nothing to get excited about."

"Come with us, sir. Ma'am."

"All right." Not knowing what else to do, Nate followed the two men, who moved up to one of the doors and knocked in a particular pattern. After a moment, the door swung open and they were escorted inside. The door closed behind them with a snap, and they were escorted to an inner door as well. One of the men spoke quietly into a wrist communicator, and the door opened after only a few seconds.

The two men escorting them stopped at a small bank of furniture that sat in one corner of the room. "Sit down," they said, enthusiastically. When their 'guests' responded with somewhat less enthusiasm, they repeated the request, with somewhat more authority in their voices. Nate and the two guards were fully engaged in a staring contest, when a voice sounded from the corner.

"Mr. Ford, I would suggest you and the lady sit down before I have my men sit you down. That's not the kind of attention you want to draw to yourself or your team. Not here. Not now." Too shocked to respond, Nate sat. Rachel, not knowing what else to do, followed suit. "Now then. That's better. Much more comfortable. May I offer you something?" he asked, indicating the small wet bar he had set up.

Nate stared at the man sitting across from him and didn't answer. After a moment, the man said, "Very well." He looked at the guards. "Wait outside."

When the guards had left the room, Nate said, "I'm guessing you have questions, Colonel. I will answer as many of them as I can for you, but this young woman needs medical attention first." Vance nodded and spoke softly into his wrist communicator, turning away just enough that no one could make out exactly what it was he said. A few moments later, the door opened, and the authoritative voice of Kitty Carrington carried in from the hallway.

"That's quite all right, gentlemen. You don't need to accompany me." She stalked inside and closed the door firmly behind her. Rachel shrank a little at the bearing of the woman standing before her. Doc looked at her appraisingly, and her voice was gentle when she said, "I'll need to examine you to make sure you are all right. Come on. Let's get you somewhere where we have a little bit more privacy."

Rachel nodded, and allowed Doc to steer her out the door and across the hall to the makeshift office she had set up.

(0o0)

Looking back at Colonel Vance, Nate waited for the man to ask his questions. The Colonel studied some paperwork on his makeshift desk for a few minutes, and then asked, "Where did the girl come from?"

"She's a part of the case we are working. She was a hostage we rescued."

"From where?"

"I'm not sure why you need that information."

"Because I'm trying to protect you."

"And I have people I have to protect as well, or did you forget?"

"The best way you can do that, at this point, is to tell me what is going on, and let me protect all of you. This is bigger than you and your team."

"Tell me, Colonel, what happens when our activities clash with your duty?"

"Spencer can tell you—I've always cared more about what's right than about what's legal, and you people seem to do the right thing. Hell, you've done right by Spencer, as far as I can tell. I don't blame you for being careful, but you brought me here to help keep you safe. I can't do that if I don't know what it is you are doing."

"I guess I'm just used to taking care of myself."

At that moment, an angry Eliot burst through the door, kicking it aside, and strode right up to Vance. His eyes were the dark blue grey of storm clouds over the ocean, and his face was lightning and thunder. A lesser man would have flinched away from him, but Vance wasn't what he was for nothing. He stood his ground, calmly watching the younger man for signs that his anger was abating. This iteration of Eliot was actually far preferable to some he had seen in the past. It was when the man got deathly quiet and very polite that a person really had to worry.

"What are you doing here, Vance?" he growled. "And what's your business with my team?"

_There it was. The voice he had learned from experience to be exceedingly cautious of._

"He's here to help us," Nate said. Eliot ignored him.

"Medical emergency. That Hepatitis that some of the men came back with—well, it started an epidemic. SG declared it a military mission. It was either me or the feds."

"You ARE a FED," Eliot roared, in no mood for games.

"You know what I mean," Vance said, and his voice held a note of warning, reminding Eliot of exactly how evenly matched they were. The men stood toe to toe, staring at one another, and neither of them were willing to back down.

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Sit down and talk about this like the decorated military officers and the friends you are, instead of acting like two teenaged boys going at it in dad's garage over some girl." Doc's voice held a note of scorn that was rarely heard there, and she took it in turns to glare at them both. Without a word, Vance sat, leaving Eliot standing toe to toe with Doc.

"And for your information," she continued, making circles around the man, still glaring at him, "I asked your Mr. Ford for permission to call Vance here. I knew the epidemic part of this was about to get messy from a military standpoint, and I didn't think you'd want your team in the middle of all of that. You were unconscious, and therefore, I couldn't ask you what you wanted to do, so I just tried to do right by you. I couldn't see how it would benefit your team to have Federal Agents pawing through everything, and potentially getting curious. I'm sorry, Eliot."

"See that it doesn't happen again. They are my team. Mine. And my responsibility." With a frustrated growl, he stalked out of the room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Hardison made his way down the hall toward his two 'vacant' apartments somewhat nervously. He needed to find Parker, and wondered if anyone might have seen her. He knew Eliot was looking for her, too, and the man wasn't in a very good mood. Just as he approached that part of the hallway, Eliot stormed out of one of the apartments, muttering under his breath, and as he brushed against the hacker, he said, "Damn it, Hardison" and continued on down the hall.

Hardison stared after him for a moment, trying to decide what was going on. Doc, who came out a moment after Eliot did, said, "If you are looking for Parker, she's over here." She then disappeared through the door of the apartment she was using as her makeshift office. Hardison stood in the hallway, lost in a sea of conflicting feelings. He knew that if Parker was with Doc she was in good hands—there was no question about that. He had also had cause to do some work of his own with Doc in the past, and he still wasn't completely sure how he felt about interacting with her. He always had the feeling that she was watching him. He took a deep breath, and letting out a sigh, followed her into the room.

As he started to move through the door, he felt a strong arm barring him from coming in any further. Glancing to his left, he saw Doc, standing still as a statue, watching the scene unfolding before her. As he looked to see what she was looking at, he froze. Parker was standing in front of her chair, staring across at another woman, looking as though she wanted to run away, and at the same time, rooted to the spot.

"I see you've met Rachel," Doc said, quietly. There was no answer. Finally, Parker spoke.

"How did you get here? I thought you were dead."

"No, although I thought so too, for a while."

"What did they do to you?"

Rachel looked down at the floor and didn't answer. Parker didn't press the issue. A silence fell over the two of them.

Doc moved further into the room, a signal to Hardison that he could do the same.

"Let's get this over with, Rachel. Come on over here." For the first time, Hardison noticed an area of the room partitioned off by a curtain. Woodenly, Rachel followed Doc behind the curtain. When she was gone, Parker sat back down on the cot she was on before.

Hardison sat down in a chair across from her, making an effort not to eavesdrop on the quiet conversation taking place behind the partition. Feeling a bit like he was intruding, a feeling which wasn't helped by the fact that Parker had failed to acknowledge his presence and refused to look at him, he considered leaving and looking for her later, but then he remembered why he was there, and he spoke up.

"I brought the age regressions."

"What?"

"The age regressions you asked for…I finished them." He held up the small stack of papers in his hand.

"Well, let's see them," she said, reaching for them. She flipped through the papers slowly, one by one, staring at them for a long time. Finally, she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry. I just don't recognize anybody from these pictures. What about the drawings I did with Lee and Eliot? Did you try to match them up?"

He nodded. "We did. We got some names. You and me, we talked about this, but you were still a little out of it from where Eliot had given you some medicine for your injuries, so you might not remember."

"Well, what were the names?"

"Andrew Lance and David Kelly."

"Hmm. Neither rings a bell."

Rachel moved back in front of the curtain at that moment, followed by Doc, who looked at Hardison and said, "Will you escort Rachel back to your offices and help her settle in? Your Mr. Ford will be expecting her. Tell Nathan I'll stop by to see him later."

Hardison nodded and squeezed Parker's hand. She smiled a sad smile at him, and watched him leave. When they were alone again, Doc looked at Parker and said, "How do you know Rachel?"

"The men who abducted me kept her in the place I stayed, for a day or so, until they saw her talking to me. Then, she disappeared, and I thought they had killed her. I figured they'd kill me too, if I didn't find a way to escape."

"Men? Are you certain they were men?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That's a good place to start. Can you describe these men?"

"One was really tall and skinny, and very pale, like he was sick or something. He had a scraggly beard and long, stringy hair. The other one was shorter, more muscular and tanned. He had dirty blond hair and a moustache and goatee."

"And there were only the two?" Doc asked.

"That's all I ever saw. Although," she said, pausing as if this had just occurred to her, "there had to be at least one other person because they transported us in a large truck, and the two of them were in the back with all of us—someone had to drive the truck."

"So what's the story with you and Gabby?"

"She was brought in to where we were being kept, beaten and bloody. She was unconscious when she was there, and when she didn't come to immediately, they took her out again. Awhile later, they brought her back in where we were, and beat her again in front of us—I guess they wanted to show us what happened to people who tried to escape. She was mostly conscious at that point, and I couldn't leave her behind. I could see that someone had treated her injuries, and some of the bandages looked like Eliot's handiwork, so I tried to find out what she knew. When they saw us together, they beat us both pretty badly.

"After they left us alone, I got us both out of there. We got halfway back here to the offices, and she collapsed. That's how I hurt my knees—I half dragged her half carried her back here. I couldn't take a chance that they'd come after us when they discovered us missing, and I didn't want to face the team until I started feeling better, so I got her through the window and then I hid in the air duct. I must have passed out in there because the next thing I knew I was in Eliot's treatment room, in the offices."

"I'm guessing Hardison brought those age regressions he was working on?"

Parker nodded.

"No hits, huh?"

Parker shook her head.

"Are you ready to try it my way?"

"Yes."

"All right then. Our brains know much more than we give them credit for knowing. You've said you feel you knew this person from a time before the team. We'll let your brain try to connect the dots for you. Close your eyes."

Parker closed her eyes and waited for Doc to speak. "Picture the man you saw that you think you know in your mind. See every detail of his face. When you've done so, focus on his image, and clear your mind of anything else."

Parker focused in on his picture in her mind. She fought to clear her mind of everything else. One image flashed across her mind for a single moment, hardly tangible, before it fluttered away.

_A small, blonde girl, no more than nine or ten years old, sitting in the driver's seat of a parked car, waiting for the man with her to come out. He rushes out toward her, throws himself over the hood, and wrenches open the passenger side door. He dives inside as the bullets ring out, slamming the door closed behind him. _

"_Go! Go! Go!" he yells, and she punches down on the accelerator, enjoying the surge of the car going faster. This is a game to her—a real life video game, of the type she used to play at some of the foster homes she stayed in—and she plans to win. She hears police sirens behind her, and smiles, knowing she is now on the next level of the game. She must find a place to hide them, or he'll go to jail and she'll go back into the system. She turns down an alley, and then another, and still another, until she can't see the lights or hear the sirens behind her anymore. She ducks into a parking deck, parks the car, and they split up. It is too dangerous to stay together. They'll meet up later, at a pre-arranged meeting place. That's protocol. That way lies safety. _

_A twelve year old girl, wearing greasy overalls several sizes too large, with blondish pigtails, streaked with grease, stands in front of a car, with the hood up, looking underneath. She reaches in, fiddles with something, and withdraws her hand a few moments later, sucking on her finger and hissing in pain. When she is standing clear of the car, he gives her a thumbs up, cranks it, and rolls the window down. _

"_Nice work. Get in. When we get back to our place, I'll give you some ice for that finger." _

_She climbed in and they sped off into the night. _

_They had made their home in an abandoned warehouse, so there was plenty of room for the small group of people that camped there every night. She had fixed an old, worn out mattress they'd found somewhere with a scrap of blanket, to protect herself from the rats. The young man with her slept at her head, and others slept at her feet. It was safer that way. _

_When they got there, he looked at her finger, but she wouldn't let him give her any ice for it. The others were watching, and they'd have something to say about it later if she did. Besides, she was too tough to let a burned finger bother her. _

_They were prowling the downtown streets, looking for those who were closing the bars. Generally, they were too drunk to notice kids hanging around past curfew, and they often left their cars unlocked. A red Camaro sat in its parking place, practically screaming that its owner was loaded. She could only hope he was loaded in more ways than one. She touched the door handle. It was locked. _

"_Slide the slim jim in there, until you find the lock. No, don't stab at it." In a matter of moments, she had the door unlocked. She never heard the sirens behind her, and by the time she did, the boy with her was gone, and the police were walking toward her. _

"_Kelly," she said sadly, as they handcuffed her and put her in the back of the patrol car. _

Suddenly, another scene popped into her mind, one much more recent. It was while she was working with the team, and she and Hardison were infiltrating Lefty's crew. Hardison had asked her how she became a car thief. She had told him all about Kelly and how he had used her as bait for the police.

"_I spent six months in juvie, and I never saw Kelly again," she had told Hardison. _

_(0o0)_

Parker had an expression of sadness, anger, and terror in equal measure on her face. Her eyes were still closed.

"Parker? Is everything okay?" Parker opened her eyes when Doc spoke to her. She started to nod and stopped herself, wiping a tear from her eye as she did so. She looked around the room absently, for a long moment, as though she couldn't quite get her bearings. Finally, she said quietly, "I think I know who the men are who abducted me that day and why."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Nate sat at his dining room table, talking quietly to Sophie, and absently circling the rim of his glass with one finger. He'd had two drinks, just to take the edge off, and hadn't refilled it. Nate couldn't shake the feeling that his team was falling apart, and there wasn't much he could do about it. Parker had disappeared somewhere, and Eliot was as cantankerous as a rattlesnake. In fact, the hitter had shut himself in the treatment room, under the auspices of caring for Rachel, and hadn't come out. Hardison was doing something on his computer, but he had the look of a kicked puppy about him. Sophie looked around at all of them, and wished she knew how to make things better for them.

They all jumped at the knock on the door. Sophie rose to answer it, but Nate put a hand on her shoulder. He would answer it instead. Before he could, Eliot came flying out of the treatment room and stalked to the door, a deadly gracefulness enveloping him. He flung open the door, grunted when he saw who stood on the other side, and then turned and stomped back into the treatment room.

Unperturbed by his reaction, Doc stepped over the threshold as though she owned the place, and walked straight up to Nate. Parker walked in slowly, hanging a bit behind, and disappeared into the treatment room.

"Nathan," Doc said, nodding a greeting. "I came to check on Rachel."

"She's in the treatment room," he said, nodding at the door. "So, Parker was with you?"

"I'd prefer to allow her to answer that, if you please. How are you all?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that, Kitty." He studied his glass for a moment, and then spoke again, "It feels like everything is falling apart, and I don't know how to stop it—how to put it back together."

"Give it time," she said gently. "It may yet come back together on its own. If it doesn't, a way to help may present itself."

"Time?"

She nodded. "Time."

"You really think that'll help?"

"In my experience, time helps just about everything." She patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, and said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have patients to see. We'll talk some more when I'm finished. Hang in there, Nathan."

He nodded, as she followed Parker into the treatment room and closed the door firmly behind her.

(0o0)

Doc walked in without making a sound, to find Parker frozen like a statue in the middle of the room, staring at Eliot, who sat at the desk with his back to the room. His spidey sense had to be tingling, letting him know that she was there, that both of them were there, actually, but so far, he hadn't acknowledged their presence. Doc couldn't help watching the scene unfolding before her.

"El-Eliot?" Parker asked, with unspoken terror written all over her face.

Slowly, Eliot turned around and looked at her. Without a word, he rose and met her where she stood, taking her hand and leading her to one of the chairs in the room. He sat her down in the chair next to his desk, and seated himself at the desk.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" he asked.

"I have something I need to tell you—well, the whole team, really—but I think you deserve to know before I tell everybody else. Please don't say anything until I'm finished, and promise me you won't overreact."

"I never overreact. My reactions are always justified." He saw the look on her face and said, "I'll do my best, but I ain't makin' any promises."

She nodded. "I know who it was who kidnapped me." She saw the way he looked at her and said, "Doc helped me figure it out."

"Well, who was it?"

"A person I knew when I was a young girl. His name was Kelly. At the time, I thought that was his first name, but maybe it wasn't, as one of the matches Hardison found to one of the composites is named David Kelly."

"So, if you don't mind me askin', why did he do it? And what else happened to you while he was holding you?"

"I don't have all the answers. Not yet. Doc and I have more we need to do, and I," she looked down at her shoes, and spoke to the floor. "I was hoping you might sit through it with me."

"Of course I will," he said, putting a finger under her chin and raising her head so she had to look at him. When their eyes met, he smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Do you need me to stay with you while you tell Nate and the others? We need to get Hardison onto finding a location for this guy."

"I know. No, you don't need to go with me to tell the team. I can do it. Stay here with Rachel and make sure she's okay."

"I'm pretty sure that's the reason Doc is here—or one of the reasons, anyway. I'll talk to Hardison while you talk to Nate. How about that?"

"Okay."

"Meet back here afterwards?"

She nodded.

Eliot looked up and caught Doc's eye. He winked at her, and then, putting a light hand under Parker's elbow, escorted her out the door and into the larger apartment. With a confused grunt, Doc turned her attention to Rachel.

(0o0)

Eliot detoured by the kitchen on his way to talk to the hacker. Opening the refrigerator, he removed a small bottle of orange soda and then he opened a drawer and removed a package of gummy frogs. He didn't understand how anyone could eat such crap, much less on a regular basis, but he respected the fact that these things seemed to activate Hardison's mad Ninja hacking skills.

Ever aware of the fact that he could move without making a sound, Eliot entertained a fleeting temptation to sneak up on the younger man, but decided against it. He did need his friend's help, after all, and giving the man a heart attack wasn't the best course of action when he needed a favor. Careful to make enough noise to alert Hardison to his presence, he walked out to Nate's living room, threw the bag of gummy frogs in an arc, so that it would land in Hardison's lap, and then immediately moved up beside the hacker and set the orange soda on the table in front of him. Hardison stared at the gummy frogs for a moment, and then looked at Eliot.

"Whatcha doin' Eliot?"

"How are you coming on finding Parker's abductors?"

"I got nothing, man. We don't even know who they are."

"We know who they are. Parker told me that when she was young, she had an encounter with a man named Kelly. Doc helped her remember that he was one of the men who abducted her. Can we find a last known address?"

"We tried that. When I got the names from the facial recognition software, I ran them. There was no last known. In fact, they didn't exist before a few years ago. They're just gone."

"They're not gone." Eliot grew silent, thinking. "Well, Parker mentioned that she thought when she knew him as a child, Kelly was his first name."

"That's not bad, Eliot. I'm on it. What's with the frogs and the orange soda?"

"They seem to help you think."

Satisfied that Hardison was doing what needed to be done, Eliot rose and made his way back to the treatment room to wait for Parker.

(0o0)

Parker thought the hardest thing she had ever had to do was to explain Archie to Nate. How their relationship worked, even if it didn't look as though it did to others. How he had given her what she most needed, even if it wasn't what others thought she needed most. But this? This was much, much harder than that.

She found Nate standing staring out the window that overlooked the front of the building, and the hustle and bustle of the street below. Sophie was watching him without making it obvious she was watching him, and worry lined her features.

"Nate?" Parker asked softly. He jumped, startled, and turned to her. "I-I didn't mean to startle you. I need to talk to you."

"Okay." Taking her by the hand, he led her over to his sofa and sat down on it, pulling her down beside him. Sophie, curious, perched on the edge of the chair adjacent to the sofa.

Without preamble, she said, "I remember who abducted me and now I need to find out why. Eliot's asking Hardison to locate him as we speak."

"That's great." He paused, thinking. "Are you asking me to help you figure out why?"

"No. Doc's going to help me." His face fell. "I need you to keep Eliot from killing him when he is found. At least until I've gotten some answers."

"Is there anything you need from us?"

"Time. And space." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Leave us alone. Keep Hardison here. This is going to be hard enough without having to worry about someone else, too."

He gazed at her for a moment, considering. Then, he nodded.

Parker nodded to her boss, and then rose and made her way back to the treatment room to meet Eliot and Doc.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hi everybody! Sorry this chapter is out so late. The story took a bit of a detour and I had to get it back on track. The rest should be out in regular intervals now, though I make no promises. **

**I don't own Leverage or any of the characters in these pages, except for those of my own creation. I write for fun and not for profit. I don't write slash. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and that you drop in to let me know what you think. Thank you. **

**Chapter 21**

The tension in the room was so thick Eliot thought he could probably get out his knife and cut it. If he were honest with himself, he had to admit that Doc had helped the team considerably, and he knew he should be grateful to her for that. He knew he was being childish getting angry that she stepped in while he was unconscious to see that they were protected, but he couldn't help it.

Doc pulled him out of his reverie when she spoke.

"How's Parker?"

"I don't know. Parker's hard to read sometimes. I should probably be asking you that."

"You know her better than I do, but I'll know more after we've talked."

"Fair enough." He fell silent, and Doc knew he was still angry.

A moment later, the door opened and Parker came through it, looking as small as Eliot had ever seen her. Without a word, she sat down next to Eliot, who put his arm around her shoulders and whispered something in Parker's ear—something Doc couldn't make out.

Doc leaned forward and looked Parker in the eyes. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, and didn't speak.

"Tell me what you remember about Kelley."

"He was just a boy. I don't know. I didn't know there was gonna be a quiz later."

"Close your eyes." Parker stared at her. Doc stared back, impassively. Parker closed her eyes.

"Picture him in your mind. What did he look like?"

"He was beautiful—fluid and graceful but also handsome and strong. He had chestnut brown hair that shone like spider's silk, and golden brown eyes. He had a manner about him that drew other street kids to him. He protected me, like he was my big brother. I felt safe with him."

"Why?"

"He protected me from other boys on the street—made sure I had a place to sleep near his, shared food with me, let me hang out with his group of older kids, taught me how to survive on the street."

"For how long?"

"About a month. Maybe two. I had just run away from my last foster home, and wasn't used to living on the streets."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve. Thirteen, maybe."

"Wait," Eliot interrupted. "I thought you met Archie at 13."

Parker nodded. "I did. I was almost fourteen. I had just gotten out of Juvie when I met Archie."

"How old was Kelley?" Eliot asked.

"Seventeen."

"Were there other girls in Kelley's group?" Doc asked quietly.

"A few. Not many. And they never stayed long."

Doc and Eliot exchanged glances and he wore a very forbidding expression.

"What makes you think it was Kelley who abducted you?"

"I knew him." She saw the way they were looking at her, and continued. "I know it sounds strange. I mean, I only spent a month with him when he was a boy, and never saw him again after that, but I know it was him. The only explanation I have is that I had to learn to survive on the streets, and that taught me how to read a person's body language—their intentions—their mannerisms very well. Those things are more unique to individuals than you might think."

Eliot nodded at Doc and she nodded back. What Parker said made sense. It was the same reason Eliot could tell what a person had done in almost any branch of the military by some distinctive feature of that person's physicality or appearance. When your survival depended on knowing things about people, it was wise to learn quickly.

"And he called me by name," Parker said, pulling them out of their thoughts.

"What happened while you were being held recently?"

Parker hung her head and didn't answer. Doc's eyes bored a hole in her. Eliot reached out to touch her, and Doc shook her head sternly and he pulled his hand back like she had slapped it.

"Parker?" Doc asked. Parker didn't look up. Nor did she speak.

"Parker, look at me." Slowly, Parker raised her head and looked at Doc, and it was then that both Eliot and Doc saw the silent tears tracing paths down her cheeks. "You need to say it, to take away any power it has over you." Doc nodded to Eliot, who reached out and took Parker's hands in his.

She looked as though she was trying to form the words, and then she shook her head and folded in on herself. "Parker?" Eliot asked softly. "We just want to help you, Darlin'. Will you tell me what happened?" She tried. She really did. But she just couldn't do it. She couldn't explain to the man she considered a big brother that she had allowed herself to be abducted and raped and hadn't successfully fought them off. Her cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment, and not really stopping to think too much about what she was doing, she rose and fairly ran from the room, making a small, high pitched squeaking sound as she went.

(0o0)

Hardison was hard at work and completely in his element doing the evil-genius-y things that he often complained the team took for granted. Truth be told, he wouldn't be anywhere else at this point, nor would he want to be doing anything else, but it never hurt to remind the team of his contributions. There were over 300 Kelleys spread across the state, but he managed to eliminate most of them by filtering out the ones who were too old or too young and those who were female. Finally, after several hours of work, he had the list narrowed down to fifteen names. Then, he eliminated the ones who could not possibly be where the women abducted were at the time the incidents happened, and also the ones whose geographic location was too remote to make them the likely abductors. He sat staring at the list of seven names for a long time.

"Is this the short list?" Nate's voice pulled him out of his reverie with a start, handing him a fresh orange soda and cradling his own coffee.

"Yes, but I don't know where to go from here. All of them seem equally likely."

"We go into their histories—find out if one particular person frequents the area where we found Parker more than the others do. We go into their backgrounds—make sure they've all existed before now, and have legitimate records to back up those statements. As a last resort, we talk to all of them—give them enough rope to hang themselves. We find those bastards and bring them to justice. For Parker. That's where we go from here."

A few moments later, Hardison yelped with glee and practically danced over to the printer, retrieving the paper in the tray and waving it above his head in glee. "Found him. Bam."

Nate couldn't believe it. "I'm sorry, but did you just say you found him?"

Hardison nodded, grinning from ear to ear. He handed the paper to Nate and said, "Well, what are you waiting for man? Let's go."

"Not so fast. What makes you think this is the place?"

"You really don't appreciate what I do, do you? None of you."

"Hardison," Nate growled, feeling like he was channeling Eliot as he did so.

"A'ight. Look bra, this Kelley," he said, pointing to a picture on the screen, "he appeared not long after this one vanished, or died, as the story goes. The warehouse district is his stomping ground. It's a double whammy." He looked sideways at Nate when he realized the mastermind wasn't rushing out the door, and in fact, hadn't made a move to leave. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? I've done my job. Now it's time for the cavalry to go rushing in."

"Say, just say for a moment that you're right. We can't just go rushing in, as you say. They've been way too careful on this job. They'll spot us coming a mile away, and hunker down somewhere to wait it out. No, we have to take them by surprise."

"And exactly how do you propose we do that?" Hardison asked.

"Eliot!" The two men said together.


End file.
